


An Assassin's Heart Never Wavers

by Naeherys



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Duct Tape, F/F, Femslash, Guns, Knives, Maleficent - Freeform, Maleficent is a badass yo, Secret Relationship, True Love's Kiss, Violence, aw yis, could be sexual maybe, first time writing fanfic guys!, lots of sighs on my part, sorry i suck at doing tags, yeah there's some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:43:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 62,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1974597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naeherys/pseuds/Naeherys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maleficent is a hitwoman. She sets out to settle a long-buried grudge, but things...don't really turn out as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pretty Pink Nails

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is the first fic I've written for Ao3, so any constructive criticism is welcomed XD
> 
> I saw Maleficent twice a month ago, and still very much in love with it all. I ship Malora so much you cannot even begin to imagine!

Maleficent was going to kill someone tonight. 

Dressed in a black tunic and tight black stretchy pants for moving around silently, she was armed to the teeth with multiple daggers and a handgun. She nodded to the security guard of the Moors Building deep in the heart of downtown, in one of the richest neighbourhoods in the city. The bouncer eyed her, but she smiled with those deep red lips and he turned away, stupidly grinning from ear to ear. It was a great gift she had learned; simply smiling or blowing a kiss towards most men could do wonders. Men tended to stare at her, Maleficent found out from an early age, and so she realized she could use her beauty to her advantage. 

She pressed the elevator button to the top floor, where her target was, and checked the address Diaval had found for her.

Penthouse, she snickered to herself quietly. Of course Stefan would. 

Maleficent had mostly done work for other people, big burly drug lords and billionaires who wanted their enemies dead. It was easy work, as most of her victims didn’t consider her a threat until the fateful moments before they died. She supposed she should have had more regret for the lives she had taken, but Maleficent’s conscience had somehow disappeared with the love and vulnerability she had stolen from her nearly a decade ago. In fact, it delighted her (and quite disgusted her, frankly) that she took joy and passion in seeing someone’s blood splatter their bedframe.

Of course she wasn’t all for killing innocents, of course. The victims she had been given had to have done something to make powerful enemies, right? She simply enjoyed cleansing the city of filth, she reassured herself again and again when doubt crept into her mind on rare occasions.

However, Maleficent had decided to take a break from blood work for a while, as she found it to be stressful. After her hair started falling out, she realized when she woke up, her butler Diaval had suggested she retire early. The thought pleased her, but Maleficent knew that she had one more target to take down. One who had wronged her so evilly, stole so much from her, that she was determined to make him pay in the worst, most violent way possible. 

Stefan. 

Her childhood friend was now the founder and CEO of Big Iron Imports, one of the largest and richest companies in the state, making him a multimillionaire and a fast-growing celebrity. He was frequently featured in the tabloids as a womanizer and someone who liked to date younger women, and although it pained her more than brought her joy to see him so often on the cover of a scandalous magazine, she laughed when she read that his latest wife had left him, leaving him with a young daughter to take care of.

And Maleficent was going to kill him.

The media would never find out it was her, of course. A while back, they had dubbed the murders done by the “True Love’s Kisser”, since Maleficent had the cheeky signature of planting a big, red kiss on the lips of her targets right before she slit their throats. A snarky move, for sure, but once Maleficent became known for it, her clients only wanted her more. No one was safe from true love’s kiss, be it man, woman, or child. She had killed a various number of people, and not once did she ever fail, so it was only right that she should end her career on a good note.

No doubt Stefan had bodyguards, but she could take them out easily enough. Truth be told, she preferred knives to guns, but they were messy and her pistol had a silencer which was perfect for long range targets. 

Maleficent reached the top floor, where she was greeted by a single door. She jimmied the lock--one of the skills she had taught herself after becoming an assassin, since what good was a killer who couldn’t even get to their target without knocking on the door and asking to be let in? The door slid open silently, for which Maleficent was grateful for, although she was unnerved by the fact there was no security waiting for her. 

The apartment was lit in the kitchen, so she looked around. Nice place, she thought to herself. Maybe once she had Stefan on the ground begging for his life as blood streamed out of him, she could ask who his interior designer was. She chuckled softly at the thought. 

The hallway down to the bedroom was long and bare. No family photos, no dresser with Christmas cards on top of it, no framed certificates on the wall. Maleficent explored all the rooms quietly, but finally arrived at the one door she hadn’t opened yet. The bedroom, was dark, but she crept inside and flipped the light switch.

Her heart skipped a beat involuntarily.

A beautiful young girl lay on a king-sized bed, fast asleep, in boy shorts and a tanktop. Long golden curls framed her pale face with rosy cheeks, and her lips were slightly pursed, as if almost waiting for a kiss. This must be Stefan’s daughter, she realized. She looks just like her daddy. 

At first, Maleficent was furious. _How dare Diaval give her Stefan’s daughter’s address instead of his? How could he be so stupid?_

Then, an idea dawned on her. A cruel, wonderful idea. 

This would be the perfect way to make Stefan pay for what he did to her, all those years ago. Wallowing in his money, his life would be bliss until he came to visit his daughter and found her in a pool of blood in her own bed with a lipstick mark from the True Love’s Kisser? It was perfect. He would cry out in anguish, in pain, as she did. He would hold his daughter’s broken body like Maleficent had held her own almost 10 years since. 

Maleficent approached the bed, and applied a second coat of lipstick, grinning like a madman. She took a knife from the strap on her thigh, held it in her hand, and leaned down.

Kissing the girl softly on the lips gave her a jolt which shocked Maleficent a little, but she ignored it. She looked at the sleeping beauty, who now had redder lips than before, complimenting her skin tone. Maleficent almost laughed with relief that she had not woken up, and held the knife out, ready to slice it across the girl’s throat. However, she paused. The girl couldn’t be older than--16? 17? Maleficent sighed. She normally didn’t like killing young girls, but it would have to do. She hesitated for a moment, then went in for the kill.

But that hesitation turned out to be her downfall.

As she was about to slice the knife, the girl’s eyes snapped open, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream, taking Maleficent by surprise, which gave the girl just enough time to slap the knife out of her hands. 

Maleficent growled and struggled with the girl, but before she could do anything, she caught a glance of pretty pink nails scraping across her throat. She didn’t have to look to knew they drew blood.

She grabbed the teen’s hands with one fist and pinned them up above her on the bedframe, and straddled her legs to stop her from kicking them as she drew a second knife from her pocket. A small part at the back of Maleficent’s mind laughed at how sexual this position would be in a normal situation, but this would be no time to be thinking of that, however much Maleficent would have enjoyed the company of the girl under different circumstances.

With surprising strength, the girl flipped herself over, knocking both her and Maleficent to the ground, and Maleficent was winded. Now the girl was straddling her, and before Maleficent had any time to get her handgun, the girl had her hands around her throat and was squeezing like a boa constrictor.

Maleficent struggled for breath. _Diaval will know something’s wrong when I don’t come home_ , she thought to herself of her undoubtedly loyal butler, but her stomach sank as she realized she had given him a week off. 

The last thing she saw before she blacked out was pretty golden tresses tickling her face.


	2. Split Lips and Bubble Baths

Of all the bad times someone could come knocking at his door, during Diaval's nice bubble bath would be one of the worst.

_Sigh._

He put on a bathrobe and wrapped a towel around his head, as the ringing of the doorbell became deafening. He opened the door to find a tall, muscular, attractive young man dressed in a police uniform scowling at him.

“Good evening, sir.” He held out his ID. “Philip Smith, of the FBI. Is this the home of Mr. Die...dia..d...”

“Mr. Diaval, that is correct.” He shook his hair out of the towel and gave the officer a once-over.

“No cause for alarm, but we've been decided to revisit the Kissing Case and have found activity in this particular neighbourhood. We're investigating all the mansions here. Have you seen or done anything you would like to declare now, before authorities get to you?” Diaval's stomach churned. Had they come close to finding his mistress? He was a computer whiz and had hacked the forensic archives to make sure the killings were never traced back to him or Maleficent. And yet...had he made sure?

“The Kissing Case?” Diaval asked. “That started ten years ago. What makes the FBI so eager to come back to it?”

“Answer the question, please.”

Diaval raised his eyebrows. _Please. Like anyone could trace the trail back to us._ “Matter of fact, I do have to say there's been a lot of suspicious stuff going on...”

Philip furrowed his brow. “This could involve national security and the lives of—“

“Oh yes,” Diaval grinned. “I've done lots of suspicious things. Need to be cuffed and frisked immedately.”

Philip blinked.

“Oh Lord.” Diaval rolled his eyes. “No one can take a joke in this goddamn city, I swear...” He walked back inside. “Tea?”

*******

Evening light streamed through the windows as the True Love’s Kiss Assassin awoke feeling like hell. Her head pounded horribly and she was pretty sure she had a split lip. She tried to get up, but found her legs were crossed and bound at the ankles with duct tape. Her wrists were bound together, with tape wrapped all the way up her hands. Normally she would have been able to escape a thing so trivial such as duct tape, but it was on too tight, and her strength had been zapped. Zapped, by…

_Oh shit._

Maleficent herself had been somehow bested by a small girl. Her head was reeling from the thought of it. How? How?! She struggled to think of it. How had it happened? Had she simply been tired that night, or had her mind been preoccupied…

Maleficent’s fighting skills were unmatched. She had otherworldly strength, plus she could twist and turn her way lithely out of any brute trying to grab her. She shouldn’t have been able to be overcome, and yet she had been knocked out by a naïve young girl who didn’t even look like she was old enough to drink.

She took in her surroundings. She was in an exquisitely furnished bedroom with a four-poster bed. Posters decorated the wall and the ground was messy with clothes. Maleficent was tied down on a small lounge chair with several layers of rope and tape; a small, bitter part of her snickered. Stefan’s daughter must have been so frightened, poor thing. Poor, sweet-

“Tell me who are you and why you’re here!” Maleficent looked up. Stefan’s daughter was right in front of her, holding a kitchen knife in her hand. Maleficent sized her up. She was dressed in a pink shirt and jeans, and her hair was tied in a bun. The girl had an angry look, but her eyes betrayed her fear, and she was shaking ever so slightly.

Maleficent gave her a sweet smile. Perhaps the girl could be cajoled into doing what she asked.

“My name is Maleficent.” She raised one eyebrow. “You’re the daughter of Stefan Irons, I presume? What’s your name, girl?”

“Aurora, and yeah I’m--” She paused. “Wait! Stop changing the subject, you...you...whatever! I may look naive, sister, but I’m old enough to look past a pretty face and see true evil underneath! Tell me who you really are. Why did you try and kill me?

_Aurora_ , Maleficent thought. _Fitting._

“You think I’m pretty?”

Maleficent heard the slap before she felt it, and tasted blood in her mouth. Maybe the kid wasn’t such a poor thing. 

“I knocked you out. I gouged out skin in your neck and bound you up with duct tape,” Aurora seethed. “If you think I'm going to go easy on you, that I'm some sort of stupid, blond, nice, teenager, you're wrong.” She spit near Maleficent's feet. _Well well, we have a badass over here._

“Fine, you...beast,” Maleficent snarled, showing off her two back teeth, which she had sharpened into fangs for intimidating her targets. That, and she enjoyed the whole "feral" look. “My name is Maleficent Moors. I came into your room last night and kissed you,” She saw Aurora's eyebrows go up. “I was about to slit your throat, beastie, but then you woke up and by a stroke of luck from whatever goddamn higher power is up above us, managed to gain an advantage and knock me out.”

Aurora tightened her grip on the knife. “Why? Why do you want me dead so badly? What connection do I have with you?”

“Why, none, not with you personally. Your father, however, has greatly wronged me. I thought maybe killing you was the best way to get back at him.” She laughed ruefully. “Apparently I was wrong. It appears you have put me through a tougher challenge than I was expecting.”

“But...what do mean, just kill me? Just like that? What do you kill people for a living?”

_Oh._ This was beginning to get better. 

“What, beastie, have you not figured it out yet?”

“F...figured out what?”

“I'm the True Love's Kisser.”


	3. Of Pinot Noir

The most powerful man in the city was having a temper tantrum.

Stefan Irons paced the floor of his office in a crisp suit that did not flatter him. His secretary had been dismissed about an hour ago when several men entered his office complex, who were armed and looked out of place beside their businesslike boss.

Stefan had been enjoying a glass of Pinot and “chatting” with his secretary, a young leggy brunette in her early 20’s; he was blissful at not having his personal guards informing him of another dire circumstance they had gotten themselves into. But when what looked like _soldiers_ burst into his office without so much as a warning, he feared for the worst.

The leader of the men, a red-haired burly man with a permanent scowl named Catus, told him they had indeed located the most recent hiding place of the city’s most famous assassin, one who gave the victims “True Love’s Kiss” before they died. True, no one except him knew that the hitman was actually a hit _woman_.

And no one else knew her name was Maleficent. If anyone found out the backstory he had with her, he could quite possibly have been arrested for conspiring with her, although what had happened couldn’t be further from the truth.

Stefan had become deathly paranoid ever since that fateful night ten years ago, and when bodies started turning up with kiss marks on their lips a couple months later, all hope he had left plummeted. He began to fear for his life, and hired a great many men to protect him.

It seemed as though Maleficent had forgotten about killing him, though, or simply she couldn’t get through his guards, for Stefan was still alive. However, he devoted all his spare time to tracking her, intent on clearing her out so his conscience could rest. When the mayor publicly announced five years ago an _enormous_ sum of money and land would be gifted to whoever managed to find the assassin, it only drove Stefan to keep looking. 

And here he was, after almost a decade, he could find the very woman who had plagued his nightmares for so long. And yet… 

“Mr. Irons, we have received word on the hitman’s location,” Catus had said. “We have snipers on practically every roof in the whole city, and the ones stationed near the Moor building saw what definitely looked to be her skulking around the penthouse apartment at 10 pm three nights ago.”

Stafan’s stomach churned. “What. The. Hell.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Unfortunately, sir, this means The True Love’s Kisser has killed your daughter, or means to hold her hostage, sir, we believe while instead looking for you. We have no other information.”

“I _know_ what it bloody means, Catus!” He smashed his wine glass on the wall. It left a stain that looked like blood. “Tell your snipers to call Aurora’s phone. Have them tell Maleficent to prepare for a bloodbath, and make your men shoot at anything that moves. I will NOT tell you again!”

“But sir,” Catus began. “Aurora could very well be alive…”

Stefan sighed. He rarely saw his daughter, and the few conversations they had were short, awkward and terse. He loved the idea of saving her, but it was likely she was already dead at Maleficent’s hands. Besides, too many people had been lost, killed by Maleficent. If one more needed to die to stop the chain, so be it.

“Do as you’re told, Catus.”

****

Aurora was shocked, that much Maleficent could gleefully tell. She heard an audible _gulp_ as the young girl tried, and failed to retain her tough-girl composure. No doubt she thought she’d been dealing with a small-time creepy robber. How precious.

“How long have I been out?” The sun was setting beautifully over the tops of the skyscrapers, and Maleficent longed to be free of her constraints and out on the balcony.

Aurora didn’t respond, but glared at her.

“Oh come on, beastie, you’ve tied me up with enough duct tape and rope to hold an elephant down. I hardly think telling me how long you _knocked me unconscious_ for would do you any harm.” 

The blond sighed. “If you must know, about three days. It’s been absolute hell on my nerves, I’ll have you know. I’ve had to cancel all my plans with everyone I know, except I couldn’t tell them I had a serial killer caught in my room.”

Maleficent almost choked. Three days? It didn’t seem that long, but how could she still be here? Weirder still, how could Aurora not have called the authorities in a panic?

“Three days? How come you haven’t called the police, or your father? Or… why haven’t you killed me out of panic? I did try and kill you, after all.”

Aurora was indignant. “I thought I’d let it wait till Philip gets home. Besides, you’re more use to me alive than dead. That, and I wanted to prove to my dad that I can handle having a killer in my presence without getting murdered.”

“Philip?” 

“He’s my fiancé.” The girl looked, almost wistfully, off into the distance. “He’s in the FBI, and oh boy, it’s going to be a treat for you when he finds you like this,” She grinned. “He’ll be ever so proud of me, and so will my daddy--”

“Fiancé?” Maleficent couldn’t help but be curious. “Aren’t you quite young to be getting married?”

Aurora looked almost shameful. “M...my father and his father were close friends. He…said it would help his social standing and that Philip would be able to protect me as a husband. I started being homeschooled by tutors, and it’s much better, even though I don’t leave the house nearly as much as I used to. And of course we’re not getting married for a couple of years, but Phil has been kind to me, even though he hasn’t been home for a while…”

“How old are you, exactly?”

“16.”

Maleficent blinked. How could Stefan be so blind? She was still a girl!

“How old is this Philip?”

“I shouldn’t be talking with you.” Aurora looked down. “I have no wish to converse with you any more.”

“Well,” Maleficent laughed mirthlessly, “from what you’ve said, you don’t go out as often as you used to. I’m not able to harm you in any way, as you suggested, and it might be a while before your dear honey gets home, so the least you could offer this poor woman is some company.” She smiled.

“Wha- The least I can do?!” She replied, taken aback. “Although I do suppose, having a conversation with an assassin will be something to tell my grandchildren, if I do make it that long. I guess I'll be able to tell the authorities more about how horrible you are. Philip is 23, also. And I know he loves me, he said so tons of times.”

"Are you a virgin?"

Aurora looked positively horrified. "WHAT?! That is not a question you ask a stranger!"

"Merely curious. Forgive me if I'm intruding on your, ahem, _personal bubble._ "

"You most certainly are. Of course I am! I'm sixteen! We're waiting till marriage, Phil thinks it's a wonderful idea." She sneered at Maleficent, who was enjoying being a pest to her captor. "I don't suppose you are though," *cough* " _harlot_."

"What," Maleficent asked sweetly. "I thought it wasn't a question you asked a stranger."

Another slap. But she was expecting it.


	4. Toast and Earl Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welllllll I can't write dialogue so there might be plot holes but things are starting to heat up yo!
> 
> by the way, my tumblr is http://those-damn-cheezits.tumblr.com/ if any of yall want to follow me ;)

Philip Smith sat in an oversized armchair drinking earl grey and feeling very out of place in what Diaval had called “his humble abode”, which was actually a huge tudor-style mansion with ivy crawling up the gables. Quite pretty, really, although Philip had never really been one for decorum; he much preferred things to be straightforward, like himself.

He had been called in to talk about the Kissing Case, although he was not entirely sure why. He didn’t know that Diaval was deathly nervous about having such a strong authoritarian presence in the room, nor did he know that by inviting him over, Diaval wanted to appear friendly and welcoming as so to clear off any suspicions.

Nor did he know that Diaval had put just a small amount of vodka in his own tea, for comfort, and had mistakenly given it to Philip instead in a fit of blind forgetfulness. 

“What suspects are you considering, if I may be so forthright to ask?” This fellow Diaval had been curious, if not a little worried-looking, over the past twenty minutes.

“Sorry, we’re not really allowed to tell civilians,” Philip said slowly. 

There was a pause. Diaval shifted uncomfortably, but Philip felt something heating up his veins and lowering his inhibitions. _Did he drug my tea_? He wondered, but quickly decided had that happened, he would already be slouched on the ground, and decided to relax.

“Although,” he said, chuckling slightly, “I will say that creepy-ass woman down the street who’s always with her pitbull is a viable option.”

Diaval smiled. “That dog attacked me once, and the woman had the balls to say I scared it.”

“What an asshole!”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, if we’re being honest, too, I thought you were a prime suspect. Don’t know why, really; maybe your house was so looming and intimidating, and I rarely saw a car in the driveway, so it looked like you were never home. When the boss told me to start extra investigations in this quarter, I thought that would give me a more justifiable cause to keep looking…” He trailed off. “Sorry, I must be boring you to tears!”

“No, it’s fine,” Diaval shrugged. “My…my...uh… _landlord_ doesn’t have a car, so that would explain the driveway thing.”

Philip stifled a snort. “You live with your landlord?”

“Sort of. I mean, yeah, we live in the same…house. She, um, offered me a place to live in exchange that I do errands for her sometimes. So I’m pretty much…a butler. Yeah, a butler.”

“She?” Philip smirked slightly.

“Oh, no! We’re not _romantically involved_ or anything at all. She’s hardly ever home. In fact, she kind of scares me, trust me on this.”

_Maleficent is going to rip out my throat if she finds out I’m cavorting with the very people we’ve been working so hard to avoid._

Philip laughed. “Quite an odd situation you’re immersed in!”

“Yeah.” Diaval suddenly felt very shy. He sipped his earl grey tea. _Perhaps I shouldn’t have invited him in, he thought. Does it look like I’m trying to hide something?_

Suddenly, Philip’s phone rang. It jolted Diaval, and he tried not to jump in surprise.

“Hello?”

Philip was silent for a long, long time. When he looked up at Diaval, it was with trepidation. He stood up quickly to go.

“Shit, I…I have to go, I’m--sorry!”

“Wait, what happened?”

Philip was already out the door. “My fiancé--Kissing Case--found--hostage!” He rambled before slamming the door behind him and sprinting to his car.

Diaval’s stomach plummeted.

 

******

The wave of hunger pangs started sometime that night, after their conversation, but Aurora was in a crabby mood after Maleficent’s jesting. Still, Maleficent hadn’t eaten for three days. She had gone for longer in the past, but she realized she hadn’t eaten anything for a day before her attack on Aurora. In any case, her stomach was growling like a tiger, which she was _sure_ Aurora could hear, but the girl made no move to get nourishment.

The young blonde had deliberately avoided going in her room the past couple of hours by whatever means necessary. Occasionally she would pop her head in when she thought Maleficent couldn’t see her, and shoot the assassin glares before leaving. Maleficent almost _wished_ her goddamn fiancé would show up sooner or later, it would at least put an end to her misery. 

After what seemed like hours of mindless waiting and neck cramping, Maleficent finally caved in and groaned.

“Aurora, please, I’m dying of hunger here.” She called out. 

Aurora came in her room, and looked at her sharply, but did not speak.

“ _Aurora_.” 

“Do not say my name.” She quickly left. _She is only pissed at me mocking her, I'm sure_

Maleficent quirked an eyebrow. She cried out in anguish, and forced her eyes to water. “Please, beastie, I have not eaten in so long, I’m going to waste away!”

“ _See if I care, you tried to kill me_ ” Was the muffled reply from outside.

She yelled with all her might, over and over, hoping to annoy the girl into submission, but the blonde had proved to be a tougher nut to crack than most. Finally, an idea came to her.

“If I die, your fiancé will know you aren’t capable of properly caring for a prisoner and you won’t be able to prove yourself to him!”

A stupid declaration nonetheless, but it brought the girl in. She had a slice of toast in her hand and dropped it on Maleficent’s chest.

“Thank you.” An unnerving thought came to her. “Suppose I had died, it would have happened on your watch. How could you have handled life knowing you deliberately killed someone?”

Deadpan, Aurora replied, “It’s happened before.”

“Oh?” Maleficent smirked.

“Except there’s no way you could die,” Aurora quickly changed the subject. “because it takes a human three weeks without food to do that.”

Maleficent showed a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Smart one we have here.” She looked down at the toast. She tried to grasp it with her wrists, but the effort was futile. Aurora looked up, with an expression of cruel innocence plastered on her features. 

“What?”

Maleficent tried reaching down with her neck, but the toast was too far down on her chest. _Perhaps…_

She looked at Aurora. “I--”

“If you want me to feed you, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.” Aurora rolled her eyes. 

“Do you wish to torture me this way?” Maleficent asked.

“A little, yes.”

The assassin smiled. “If you could just…”

Aurora took the toast and moved it higher up on Maleficent’s collarbone, and she reached down with her neck and took a bite. Just toast, except it tasted like the sweetest caviar. _Pity though_ , Maleficent sighed internally. _I could have bitten one of her smug fingers off if she’d just so much as fed me one bite._

Aurora seemed to be immensely enjoying Maleficent’s discomfort at eating, and she shook her head and looked out at the night sky, which was clear and showed many stars and airplanes. 

As much as she hated the naive girl, Maleficent could not help but admire her ability to stay calm in the face of adversity, something Maleficent could not have done herself when she was Aurora’s age.

Time seemed to slow down, as the quiet chewing of the assassin on the toast and the steady breathing of the young girl beside her melded into one, and for some strange reason Maleficent decided she was glad she had not killed the girl. For the moment, at least. 

She looked over at Aurora, who did not notice her as she was still looking serenely off into the distance. She smiled.

She was still smiling when the shot rang out, whistling cold and clear through the night.

She stopped smiling when the shot went for them, shattering the glass right above their heads.

Instead, she screamed.


	5. Sniper!

Maleficent wished the damn girl would stop screaming so she could think; it made her mind cloudy and it was hard to think up an escape plan when her eardrums were being torn apart by Aurora’s shrieks.

“Wh--ee-w-hy--I--Mal--wha--,”Aurora blubbered incoherently. She didn’t appear to be shot, but dozens of scrapes littered her face from the explosion of broken glass. Maleficent doubted she looked any better herself. 

“Snap out of it, girl!” Maleficent nearly screeched. “Crying will get you nowhere. You need to calm yourself down, you’re not dead yet!” _Although you very well could be, for all I care._

At once, as though out of a cheesy action movie, the telephone rang. Maleficent almost laughed had she not been so anxious about her predicament; she thought it could wait until later. 

It wasn’t as though she was afraid of dying, ha! She had been in worse situations than a gunman shooting at her; it was simply the thought of being powerless that infuriated her, and made a little coil of fear deep down in the pit of her stomach. How pathetic would she be afterwards, known as possibly one of the best assassins in the whole country, and yet died while being shot in a lounge chair, helpless? The thought made her shudder.

Aurora looked at her. _Funny how she seems to trust me in times of crisis_ , she mused. _If I were her, I’d surely do the opposite._

“I don’t know, beastie, answer it or not. It’s not up to me, remember?” Maleficent chuckled mirthlessly. “Although I do think answering that phone call could be very, um, important, considering how WE MIGHT DIE SOON.”

Aurora squeaked. She managed to slither over to the table where the phone was ringing incessantly without getting too close to the windows, and picked it up. She pressed the Talk button, but did not say anything. Maleficent strained her ears to listen, but could hear nothing but static. Suddenly, a clear voice but through the line on the other side. Undoubtedly male, and yet quite feminine. Maleficent wondered if he was a soldier.

“The True Love’s Kiss Assassin; we have you surrounded.”

Maleficent’s fears were confirmed. It was surely Stefan. Aurora looked dumbfounded, and crawled slowly closer to Maleficent.

“W--wait! Who is th--this?”

“This is Private Catus Nara, my men have been given orders from Stefan Irons to shoot anything that moves. We will give you, assassin, ten minutes to come out of hiding. Obey, and your death will be painless, we assure you. Failure to comply, however, and Mr. Irons will prepare something--” He paused. “special.”

“WAIT!” Aurora sobbed into the receiver. “Wait, wait! Stefan Irons?! That’s--I’m his daughter! His daughter! I’m alive, please don’t shoot! Don’t shoot, I’m alive, does he know that? I’M ALIVE!”

“Mr. Irons made no mention of you.”

“WHAT?”

“Mr. Irons simply intended that we do whatever possible to kill the assassin, at whatever cost necessary. He made no mention of his daughter.”

“Please don’t shoot! DON’T SHOOT, I--”

The click of the receiver at the other end told Maleficent he had hung up. Why had Aurora not told Private Nara she had her hostage? She supposed it would have made little difference to her, although perhaps Aurora would have a better chance of surviving. 

Speaking of Aurora, the young blonde looked like she was in shock.

“My…own father. Would sacrifice my life for revenge of his paranoia.” She stared numbly ahead. 

An idea struck Maleficent. “Aur--Aurora. Do you know, perhaps, of any secret ways out of the penthouse to the elevator?”

Aurora looked at her fearfully. “If you think--”

“Once we get to the elevator safely, I know how to escape to perhaps a parkade or ground floor and get us from there.”

“Why should I TRUST you?!” The poor girl was at her wits’ end, Maleficent could tell. 

“Listen, if we manage to get out of this goddamned apartment building before Stefan’s guards get to us, there is a chance we can survive. If we stay here, however, we’ll 100% be dead within the hour.”

“M--My father’s guards won’t shoot me when they come in!”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Maleficent paused. “If your father made no mention of you, they could very well think you’re the assassin when they burst through the door--”

“How could anyone think that! I look like I wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“--Let me finish. Even if they don’t believe you’re the True Love’s Kisser, they are ordered to shoot anything that moves. That includes you, and they may kill you on the pretense of you being a conspirator with me.” _That should do it_ , Maleficent thought finally. _Perhaps the girl will believe me, in which case she may be my salvation, naive as she is._

Aurora was silent. Maleficent looked past her into the night sky, over the skyscrapers. She struggled to make out a figure on the tops of buildings that may have shot her, but there was no movement.

 _Damn_ , Maleficent thought. If I could just catch a sniper or two...One of her eyes was tearing up, presumably because of broken glass, otherwise Maleficent had perfect vision. It annoyed her tremendously to not be able to be eagle-eyed like she normally was. And yet…was that movement in the far left--?

Maleficent barely had the time to scream out “SNIPER!” before a second shot rang out. Aurora snapped out of her crying and dashed forward to protect herself, and Maleficent felt the whoosh of the bullet dangerously close. All was silent, and Maleficent breathed a sigh of relief, until she looked at Aurora.

A small involuntary gasp escaped from her lips.

“I…I’ve been shot.” Aurora said dumbly, obviously in shock. Maleficent looked down in horror at the girl’s forearm, which had a messy gunshot blast through it. It was streaming large amounts of blood, which scared Maleficent. _Did it hit an artery?_

“You...took a bullet for me?” Maleficent wondered aloud. This beast, who not 36 hours before was trying to knock her out, had done something like this?

Aurora broke down and began hyperventilating. “NO! I didn’t a bullet for you, I--I fell! What, you really think I would sacrifice my own life for you?!” Maleficent almost felt sorry for her. She seemed to be in immense pain. “It was an accident,” The blonde hissed.

The small coil of fear increased into panic in Maleficent’s stomach. “Listen, beastie, you have to listen to me…Listen!” Aurora’s head, streaked with sweat and tears and blood everywhere, looked a mess. She was still clutching at her arm, although made no anguished cries typically associated with pain. Definitely in shock. “Listen, Aurora, you have to cut me loose, or we’ll both die!”

“I don’t care if you die! I _want_ you to die!” Aurora screamed.

“No! Listen to me!” The girl complied, thankfully. “If you can find a way out to the elevator, I’ll be able to get us down to the parkade, where we can escape. I have a safe house not far from here, and we’ll get you…” She struggled to say the word. “Get you treated and patched up. You will be safe, for the moment.” Seven hells, was she showing _compassion_?

“You’ll just kill me when we get out!”

As much as it killed Maleficent to let a target go, she knew that when the stakes were high, it needed to be done. “No. Look at us. I’m at your mercy now, I’m the one tied up, for goodness sake’! If you cut me loose, you save my life. If you manage to get us to the elevator, you save my life again.” She swallowed. “I...promise that if we make it out of this building alive, I will do everything in my power to get you to the safe house. After that, you’re on your own. Only to the safe house.”

Aurora looked up with heavily lidded eyes. She’d lost a lot of blood. “Why--” The girl gruesomely spat out blood on the floor beside Maleficent. “Why should I trust you?”

The assassin decided that she hated showing compassion. But she couldn’t let the girl die, or she’d die to. “I swear it, on my honour, that I will get you to the safe house.”

Aurora laughed wickedly. It was an odd sound coming from her. “You have no honour.”

That much was true, at least. “Then I swear it on my life.” _Something I value far more than my honour._

Aurora smiled dully. “If I had use of my hand, I’d shake on it, but…” she motioned to her bloody arm and chuckled. 

“It’s a deal, then.” There was a long pause. “Well, get to it then! We have limited time!”

The blonde stagger-crawled over to beneath her bed, and pulled out a scary-looking serrated kitchen knife from beneath it.

“You have that in your room?” Maleficent questioned. 

“Perhaps I’m not as naive as you think.” She held the knife in her left hand. “I guess it’s lucky I’m left-handed, or we’d surely be dead already.”

She began to saw away at the duct tape and rope, which by now was so covered in blood it fell away in slick chunks. Maleficent found she had one arm free, and gently tugged the knife away from Aurora, who was going as fast as she could but too slow for the brunette’s comfort. She sawed away quicker, and in half the time it took Aurora she was free. 

She fell over awkwardly, not wanting to stand up, but miraculously her feet weren’t cramping up after so long in disuse.  
She cut and ripped away the bottom part of her tunic, and then wrapped it tightly around Aurora’s arm, who was trying not to gape at her midriff. Several scars lined the slender stomach, but it was undoubtedly appealing. Maleficent laughed inwardly. _Yep. Still in shock_. “I’m not the best at making tourniquets, but this should do. Try and raise your arm above your head--It’ll make less blood come out.” The girl nodded. 

They crept out of the rooms, turning all the lights off as they went and crouching when they passed by the huge, almost floor-to-ceiling windows that Aurora had installed in her penthouse. When they reached the front door, Maleficent turned to the blonde.

“Stay behind me, and give me your knife.” When the girl had knocked Maleficent out three days ago, she had stripped her of all the weapons she could find--except the throwing knives she had strapped to her inner thigh. Specifically there, so that intruders wouldn’t think to look unless they were being particularly-- _pervy_. Still, she needed as many weapons as she could get. There was no way of telling how many of Stefan’s guards were out there.

She opened the door quietly into the hallway, with Aurora close at her heels, and speed-walked towards the corner, that would take them (hopefully) to the elevator.

“Stop right there!” Damnit. Two goons were posted down this hallway and were steadily advancing. One made to draw his assault rifle on the girls, but Maleficent took him out easily. The other one, seemingly more cowardly, dropped his gun and ran, but the assassin took him out with the serrated knife in his back as he ran, while Aurora looked on in equal parts fear and wonder.

There were no guards at the elevator. They got in, and quickly shut the doors. As Aurora made the move to press the button, however, Maleficent stopped her. 

“No, they’ll be waiting for us. If the elevator stops on the ground floor, we’re dead meat. She reached up with her long arms to the vent at the top. She looked at Aurora.

“I’ll give you a boost up.”

“I--I don’t think I can make it.”

“Well, try!” With a shriek as Aurora’s hurt arm was jostled, Maleficent grabbed her and held her up. She grappled on to the lip with one hand, and Maleficent reached under her to push her feet up, and soon she was looking down on the assassin from above. She held out her hand.

“No, no. I’ll be fine.” Maleficent swung up and was on top of the elevator with the girl in a matter of seconds. “You think I haven’t done this before?”

“Sorry.”

Maleficent shook her head and looked at the control panel wires in front of her. It was green cut, then blue forward...Or was it red? Yes. It was red that needed to be cut. She sawed off one of the wires, creating a mini display of sparks, and the elevator jolted downwards, sending Aurora flying on top of her. 

“Sor--sorry!” 

Maleficent hissed and pushed her off, but the girl began crying in earnest as her wound was hit over and over. She sighed, and ripped off a small piece of her tunic again. she wound it up and stuffed it into the girl’s mouth, like a pacifier for a baby. “Here,” She said. “Bite on it.”

The elevator was moving alarmingly fast, and they reached the bottom with a _thud._ Maleficent climbed down through the hole, and helped Aurora do the same, who was clutching to her like a baby koala. They opened the doors into the bottom level of a creepy parking garage, empty save for a few sports cars. 

"Is no one here?" Aurora pondered aloud.

"I think they'll be waiting for us at the entrance," Maleficent replied, and before she could do anything, Aurora ran off towards the upper levels to check. _She must have a death wish. Her wound will start bleeding horribly again._

Before long, another shot rang out, and Maleficent groaned inwardly, but soon after that, the blonde came bounding back, a wild look of fear in her eyes. "They're guarding the upper levels. Quick, I think they might come down!"

Maleficent hated to take this route, but she scouted for a manhole cover on the concrete. "Um, Aurora, Unfortunately--"

Another shot rang out, closer this time. _Goddamnit._ They were getting closer. She quickly found the round metal lids and lifted it off, revealing the sound of rushing water beneath. A _gasp_ emanated from Aurora.

"We're...going in the sewers?"

"What?" Maleficent snapped. "Would you rather die? Hop in, but don't let your wound touch the water--it'll probably get infected." She shuddered inside a little at the thought.

They descended down the ladder and jumped into the freezing water. It smelled _horrible_. Maleficent quickly oriented herself, and started to march forward, upwater. They had to be as careful as possible--not only could Aurora's cut get infected, but they both would get hypothermia if they stayed in the frigid water too long.

"P-please, M-m-Maleficent, I can't go on for much longer." Aurora chattered. Maleficent looked back, and the girl looked like something out of a horror movie. Her hair was plastered to her face, blood streamed out of her mouth and nose, and she stumbled almost drunkenly along.

 _Sigh. What a weakling._ "You'll have to, _beastie._ We're almost there." They weren't, but it was crucial to keep Aurora going. 

They marched for what seemed like hours. Maleficent had navigated the sewer system before, so she knew roughly how long it took to get to the safe house-- _Her house, that was._ Aurora didn't need to know just yet. They were almost there--Maleficent judged it was the next manhole cover they encountered would take them to her house.

Suddenly, Maleficent heard a _splash_ behind her. Aurora had fainted, and was being dragged downwater by the current.

"Shit!" Maleficent cursed. She ran back and tried to wake Aurora, but the girl had lost too much blood. Her eyes were half-open, and she mumbled incoherently. Worse, her tourniquet had falled off and her wound was exposed to the disgusting water. "Oh God! _Shit!_

Maleficent had no other choice but to pick the girl up in a fireman's carry and slung her over her shoulder. When she reached the ladder, it proved to be more difficult than if she was by herself, and for one heartbeat of a moment, she wondered about leaving the girl alone. She would die, of course, so there was no need to worry about her getting revenge later, but Maleficent shrugged. She had made a promise, after all. Plus, she had never just left someone to die--that was cruel. She always made sure she killed her targets.

With a grunt, she hoisted the manhole out, and came upon a deserted street in her neighbourhood. She lifted Aurora out, and took her in her arms, like a child, instead of the rough over-the-shoulder method she had used before. It was no good to let the child die now, she surmised, now that they had made it this far. 

Maleficent's arms were getting tired, toned as they were, since she had been carrying a girl almost her own weight for close to half an hour. When she reached her mansion, she almost whooped in delight had she not been entirely exhausted.

When she saw a light on inside, what was left of her heart smiled. She made it, and better yet, Diaval was home. She knocked on the door multiple times, until her faithful _butler_ answered. His eyes went wide in surprise as he looked from her, to the unconscious girl in her arms.

"Mistress! Wha--"

Maleficent cut him off by shoving Aurora into his arms. "Please, Diaval..." She sighed. "Get her cleaned up. I'll take a look at her once I shower."

Diaval raised his eyebrows. "As you wish."


	6. Little Dreams and Syringes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo time for a mini-chapter!

_Aurora leapt through a purple field of thistles. Her legs were getting scratched, but no blood came out, only wisps of purple magic that floated in the air beside her as she ran. She was dressed in a flowing red gown, and her hair tumbled long down her back. She looked behind her._

_A small black crow flew behind her, wings out and feathers flying behind it as it sailed through the sky. She called out to it, her voice high and clear._

_“Pretty bird!”_

_The crow sped ahead and motioned for her to follow, but as soon as she turned back around, she found herself bumping into a tall, darkly clothed figure._

_“Sorry--”_

_Maleficent looked down on her, her hair done up and she was wearing a dark cloak. She was smiling, but it was too wide, and there was something disconcerting about her eyes._

_“Hello beastie,” She laughed. “I’ve been waiting for you.”_

_And Aurora found she was being kissed, hard and strong, and being swept up in the older woman’s arms. She tried to move her head but found she was frozen in place, like being asleep._

_“Stop...Wait! Stop it!” She screamed into the assassin’s mouth._

_Even as she said the words, they came out of her mouth muddled. She struggled, but felt a darkness pressing on her from all sides. Maleficent drew back with a hiss, a sneer forming on her pouty red lips._

_“You dare defy me, insolent girl!”_

_“No, wait! I--”_

_The darkness came then, enveloping her and Maleficent in a starry eternal nighttime. Aurora screamed, but the sound was lost in the nothingness, and she watched in horror as the brunette pulled out a small dagger, already gleaming with the dark blood of the assassin’s previous targets._

_“No!” Aurora’s mind was in a blur. “No, stop! STOP!”_

_The knife drew across her throat, and she felt a warm line of blood drip, drip, dripping around her, and she embraced the night._

********  
Maleficent looked down on the sleeping girl, whose face was pale and hair stringy, plastered to her skull. She had drifted in and out of consciousness for a little less than eight hours, but had not made a peep. Diaval was the one who had summoned her to one of the many guest rooms in the mansion where Aurora was kept. 

The girl looked dreadfully on the verge of death. She had lost a lot of blood. Diaval had wrapped her arm in gauze the best he could, but it had leaked through already, turning the beautiful white sheets a dark reddish brown. 

Diaval was the one who stood beside her now, with a worried expression on his face. 

“Diaval, what is it you wish to consult me on?” She asked him pointedly. “You know very well you’re the capable one here. Try as I might, there is nothing I can do to affect the girl’s life.”

“Well, you see, mistress,” Diaval hastily explained. “The girl--”

“Aurora,” Maleficent found herself saying involuntarily. 

“--What?”

“Aurora. That is her name.”

“Yes, mistress, you see, Aurora has lost, well...let’s just say too much blood. I must say, I’m incredibly impressed she made it through the night. She seems to be holding on for something, but at this level, she will not survive, unless--”

“Unless?”

Diaval gulped. “She needs a transfusion.”

The brunette raised one eyebrow. “Forgive me, but you haven’t done that yet?”

“Well, I did a quick test...She’s a type A, I’m a type O...Her body will likely reject the blood cells.”

Maleficent turned away. She’d never meant for the girl to die in her house, but she supposed it couldn’t be helped. “Well, you aren’t going to let her suffer, are you--”

“ _Maleficent_.” Diaval called out. She whipped around--Her butler rarely spoke her real name. 

“You’re a type A.” Diaval cleared his throat. “Only a little would suffice, you could save her life, mistress. I don’t know your deal with this girl, but judging from the way you carried her in last night--”

“She and I made a deal, that is all, Diaval. You would do best to remember that.”

Diaval nodded tersely. Maleficent sighed.

“As much as I harbour no love for this beast, I promised to get her to my house safely. It wouldn’t do to let her die now. I’ll...I’ll do it.” She rolled her eyes. “Where’s the syringe?”


	7. Ski Poles and Toast with Jam

Aurora awoke in a large queen-sized bed in an unfamiliar room. She felt drugged and weak, and could barely raise her head. She seemingly couldn’t feel her body, but she supposed the feeling would wear off sooner or later. 

“Wha--?” She started to freak out, but in a woozy haze she remembered what had happened in the past couple of days.

Keeping a striking-looking assassin named Maleficent in her room tied up with two rolls of duct tape in order to stop her from trying to slit her throat with a knife--that had been bizarre. But it was far from the weirdest thing that followed.

She had been shot at by her own father (She _still_ couldn’t really comprehend why, as much as she tried to reason with herself) with snipers on a rooftop shattering her glass window and shooting her in the arm in the process. 

She had let herself trust this weird hitwoman named Maleficent and had cut away her ropes (again, _why_?) And the two of them had escaped her perilous apartment, coming dangerously close to being peppered with bullet holes like a tin can. Maleficent had promised to her she’d get Aurora to her house safely, but to do that they had to crawl, like, like…homeless people or sewer rats through the city’s sewage system. Aurora barely remembered anything after descending into those inky depths, but she vaguely remembered water swirling over her head, the colour of blood…

She looked around the room. It was nicely furnished, with an old armchair in the corner and a black-tiled fireplace right in front of her. Blinds covered the windows, but there were a few cracks where sunlight streamed in, creating ribbons of light across Aurora’s freckled face. She was sitting in a fluffy queen bed with nice, clean white sheets. _Ahhh _. They’d been recently washed.__

__Aurora looked down at herself and found she was dressed in nothing but a musty old robe, which hung down past her ankles and hands and was a dark black. She shivered at the thought that someone would’ve had to strip her clothes off and bathe her wound...She wondered _who_. Did Maleficent live alone? _ _

__Also, what had happened to her clothes? Were they burnt, or thrown away? _Damn_. Aurora rather liked her nice pink blouse, although she realized it was probably too bloodied to wear. _ _

__After a period, she found she could move her limbs again, however weakly, and slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed. She placed them on the cool hardwood, and…_ _

___Shit_. She found her legs couldn’t support her, and tried to send an arm out to stop her fall. Too late, however, she realized that was the arm that had been shot._ _

__“Oh God! Ah! Oh Godohgodohgodohgod!” Aurora cradled her bandaged arm on the ground. So...that’s why she’d felt so weak in bed. Jolts of pain shot through her arm down through her body, and she gritted her teeth so hard to keep from screaming out that she felt they would pop right out out of her mouth._ _

__“Shit!”_ _

__A dozen eons seemed to pass before she realized no one was coming to help her. The girl craned her neck to hear any sounds coming from behind the closed door, but the whole house seemed to be silent. Aurora got up slowly again, wincing in pain._ _

___This is odd_. She’d never thought of it before, but she suddenly realized that whenever she got hurt, or sick, or upset in any way, her father always made sure she had nannies looking after her, or her friends would call and stop by and give her hugs. She came to the realization that she was _sixteen_ now, able to drive and stay alone in a house. And in an unfamiliar house now, staying with someone who had tried to kill her. She’d need to start caring for herself, as she doubted anyone else would, least of all _Maleficent_. _ _

__Aurora chuckled. She tried and failed to imagine the assassin coming in her room with a tray of hot soup and hugs at the ready. She realized the assassin would probably rather kill herself that bring herself down to that level of emotion._ _

__Aurora grabbed on to the hat stand to steady herself after she pulled herself up, and looked around for something to use as a cane, as her legs were still wobbling. She noticed an old ski pole hanging on a the wall--no doubt a decoration, but she couldn’t help it. Ah well. She would do her best to replace it._ _

__The blonde stumbled out of her nice room and down the hall, and gasped._ _

__She was in a _mansion_._ _

__Aurora found herself at the end of a hallway, where she was greeted by a humongous entryway and stairwell, complete with a tall glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Most of the other doors to her sides seemed closed, and she feared the assassin’s wrath if she found something she was not supposed to, so she decided to press ahead._ _

__When the girl arrived at the top of the staircase, she looked around in awe. It looked positively like a palace. She felt, somewhat foolishly, like a princess as she descended the red-carpeted stairs to the cool tile below. Her arm was still throbbing, but the pain had lessened a bit. And was that...humming?_ _

__Aurora walked to the right, down another long hallway and down a small flight of stairs, following the sound. It was lilting, and seemed to reverberate through the wooden walls, but it was undoubtedly masculine._ _

__“ _I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream…_ ”_ _

__Aurora recalled the song from somewhere, although she could not quite place it. She finally came upon a kitchen, immaculately clean and scrubbed to the core, where a well-dressed young man in a black shirt was pouring himself a drink and singing. He gave a start when he saw the blonde, but his features of surprise slowly turned into something pleasant._ _

__“Ah, I see our little guest has awoken. Frankly, I’m impressed, Aurora,” He grinned good-naturedly. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it through the night, having such a nasty cut. But I got you right cleaned up and fixed up, is what I did. Name’s Diaval. Coffee?”_ _

__“No thank you, but...how did you know my name?”_ _

__“Mistress Maleficent told me your name when she brought you in last night dying, all cradled up like a wee baby, you were,”_ _

__Aurora blushed slightly. She didn’t remember _that_. _ _

__“Anyhoo, I’m her butler, and you’ve arrived in her house. For the time being, that is. Thing is, we like to change residencies often, as it would be, um, more than slightly dangerous for someone such as Mistress Maleficent to stay in one place for too long, you feel me? So we’ve been lucky and managed to find this abandoned place--about to be torn down--and we fixed it up, been living here for a month or so.”_ _

__Aurora nodded. “How long...am I to stay here?”_ _

__Diaval gave her a once-over. “Well, judging from your, ahem, _injury_ , I’d say at least a couple of days until you feel strong enough to walk without a vintage ski pole for assistance.” He winked, and Aurora winced. _ _

__“Sorry, I can replac--”_ _

__“Ah, no need, sweet girl. I doubt Mistress cares for decorum very much, it’s mostly me that has made the house as it is, and I don’t care.”_ _

__Aurora sat down at one of the stools by the table, where the raven-haired man sat opposite, sipping his coffee. “If I may be so bold as to ask, if I lost so much blood, how did I live?” She looked down. “And...I know this sounds stupid, but...Did you or Maleficent have to, um…”she pointed down at her robe. “My clothes--”_ _

__Diaval laughed, a great hearty sound which echoed throughout the old house. “Dearie, Maleficent will have no part in caring for any sort of living creature, that’s just her thing. So no, she didn’t strip you and burn your clothes, I did. I, well, had to, since they were so bloodstained it would surely give you gangrene, or something. I then gave you one of my old robes to wear after I cleaned you up.”_ _

__He must have noticed Aurora’s scared look, for he put a kind hand on her non-hurt shoulder._ _

__“--but you can stop worrying, for I, um...have my sights set on another. I would never dream of taking advantage of anyone unconscious, if that’s what you’re thinking.”_ _

__Aurora involuntarily let out a sigh of relief, to which she immediately tried to cover up, but Diaval smiled, almost in a brotherly way. To be honest, she hadn’t gotten a particularly pervy vibe from the young man, but it was always nice to know._ _

__“As for your blood loss, Mistress Maleficent had to give up a little bit of her blood for a transfusion--I wouldn’t sweat it, she won’t miss it--although to be honest, I did have to cajole her, as she was pretty reluctant at first. But she did see that there was no point in letting you die now, as I believe you two had made some sort of deal? Anyways, you have her to thank for your life, essentially.” He grinned. “Well, her and me both.”_ _

__“Thank you!” Aurora was a bit taken aback by both the assassin and her butler’s sudden acts of kindness. “I honestly don’t know how to repay you both, I just--”_ _

__“No need, sweet girl. I serve Mistress Maleficent, and she has determined you already paid her back by cutting her ropes last night.” He raised one eyebrow, something both him and the assassin did a lot, Aurora noticed. “You, um, you...know about Mistress’s profession?”_ _

__“I do.” Aurora said dryly. “I suppose you’d probably better talk to your mistress about the details, but alas, I found out the hard way. As in, I was one of her targets.”_ _

__Diaval blinked rapidly for a moment, then laughed. “Well, I’ll be!” He had a habit of turning serious situations into lighthearted ones. “First she wants to kill you, then she wants to save you. Next--”_ _

__“Very funny.”_ _

__“Aw, I didn’t mean anything by it, Aurora. Here, let me get you something to eat, you must be absolutely famished.”_ _

__As the young man began to spread jam on toast, Aurora realized she was famished. When had she last eaten--two days? Yikes. She realized that was the longest she’d gone without any food at all. She was _starving_. _ _

__“Oh yes, thanks so much!” She hastily wolfed it down when another appeared on her plate. “Oh, Lord, this is so good.”_ _

__An idea came to the blonde as she was eating. “By the way, where _is_ Maleficent?”_ _

__“No idea,” Diaval shrugged. “This house is big, and I think she wouldn’t risk her safety by going too far outside, so you can probably bet she’s somewhere in one of these many rooms, but even I don’t know where she is most times.”_ _

__“Would she feel terribly intruded upon if I sought her out and talked to her?”_ _

__The young man opposite her smiled. “I shouldn’t think so, lass. Go for it.”_ _

__Aurora quickly washed her plate, and limped over to the door--she was still feeling quite weak from her wound, although she felt energized by the food she had just eaten. “Thank you, Diaval!”_ _

__“No problem, sweet girl.”_ _

__Aurora wandered back where she came. She could see out of the windows into a neighbourhood she did not recognize. However, the garden (both backyard and front yard) were absolutely marvelously tended, with rose vines crawling up the gables and hedges everywhere._ _

__Aurora rapped lightly on each mahogany door she came across, but couldn’t hear anything, and when she opened them, they revealed empty bedrooms, or closets, or bathrooms. She scoured the top, then bottom floors (although did not go into the cellar--too creepy) for what seemed like hours, with no luck. Just as she was about to check the backyard, she spied one long door at the end of the hallway._ _

__It was ajar._ _

__The blonde advanced, somewhat carefully, and pushed open the door._ _

__Inside, sat The True Love’s Kiss Assassin, Maleficent, herself: she was dressed in a casual black tunic dress and leggings, and the same boots she had worn when she first tried to kill Aurora. She was no less beautiful than before, although Aurora could see her face clearly, and unobscured now: she still bore a black eye and split lip, but her hair was long and straight and her posture was impeccable._ _

__She was poring over a book. Not trying to kill someone, not growling to be fed, not making snarky remarks. A book. She must have heard the door slide open, for she was staring at Aurora when she came in._ _

__One eyebrow raised (that again!), she cocked her head to one side.  
“Hasn’t your father ever told you it’s rude to enter without knocking?” She said in a deadpan expression._ _

__“Your door was open.”_ _

__Those green eyes stared into Aurora’s blue ones, almost like they could see her fear._ _

__“--sorry.” Aurora sheepishly looked down._ _

__“How are you feeling?” The words were kind, but Maleficent was speaking tensely, her words curt._ _

__“A little weak, as you can see by my current state--oh, and sorry! I used this, um ski...pole--”  
Aurora faltered. Somehow having the older woman staring her down had caused all the words to leave her head, and she stumbled over her conversations. “This ski pole to help...me...um, walk, I hope you don’t mind, cause I can...replace it!” _ _

__“No, that’s fine,” Maleficent said calmly, without blinking. She seemed to be comfortable with silence._ _

__“Whatcha reading?” Aurora’s curiosity had finally gotten the better of her. She adored books of all kinds, and seeing someone read something she could get her hands on made her joyful._ _

__“Lord of the Rings.” Maleficent allowed a small smile to grace her lips. “This is my first time reading the first book, and although I do love the story premise, it seems to be a bit...slow.” She waved the book at the young blonde._ _

__“Oh my God!” Aurora squeaked, without meaning to, then covered her mouth politely. “I love the Fellowship! I practically grew up reading only those...and don’t worry it gets more exciting.”_ _

__“Oh really.” Maleficent smirked a little more, but the one eyebrow remained cocked._ _

__“Yeah, and--Oh wait, I can’t tell you any spoilers but GAH sometimes I just want to! My favourite characters are Legolas--He’s an elf, and--”_ _

__Suddenly, Aurora felt very, very lightheaded. She put a hand on the table to steady herself, and blinked slowly for a while. She looked up to find the assassin still looking at her curiously._ _

__“You alright?”_ _

__“Yeah. Sorry. Got, um, carried away.”_ _

__She stared at Maleficent for a full ten seconds after, never breaking her gaze.  
“I can promise you,” Maleficent said, “As long as you are in my house, I will not harm you. We’ve made a deal, and it’s not in my nature to kill guests under my roof, so you don’t need to look like a deer caught in headlights.”_ _

__Aurora continued to stare blankly. The assassin snorted._ _

__“Come, now that you’re up, I may as well show you around.” She got up, and extended an arm to Aurora, who was still wobbling on her ski pole, and who looked up at her, somewhat fearfully. “I’d prefer it if you don’t break that pole.” She remarked dryly._ _

__Aurora took her arm, and gripped it strongly; she could feel the assassin tense up at the touch and when she looked at her face, the brunette had an expression of uncomfortableness._ _

__“T-thank you.”_ _

__“Shall we go?”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _


	8. Gardens and Gargoyles

Catus Nara was at his wits’ end. 

He was so close to catching the True Love’s Kiss Assassin--she was practically in the palm of his hand, and being trapped on the top level of an apartment penthouse should’ve been a death trap for her. And yet, when he ascended the elevator to finish the job, he found his top two men dead, their blood unmistakably splattered on the nice carpeted floor. He swore, but by the time they entered into the penthouse, they knew it was empty.

The strange part, though, was that there was no sign of a body of Mr. Irons’ daughter, Aurora. Catus had expected that once the assassin knew she or he was being hunted, they would waste no time in killing the girl and being on her way--that was what they had evidently come to do in the first place. But why slow themselves down by taking a hostage? Surely they hoped they’d get ransom money, but Catus severely doubted that Stefan would care enough for his daughter to pay a ransom if it meant the assassin he’d hunted for so long would slip away. He didn’t know the deal between this strange hitman and his boss, but he expected there was more to Stefan’s motives than just the offer of a reward.

How? He’d asked himself countless times. How could the assassin have possibly escaped Catus’s highly-trained professional men? They had had the entire building surrounded, every entrance and exit blocked, even the parking garage. People don’t just disappear into thin air.

His boss, the infamous Stefan Irons, had already had a fit and freaked out at him, but he wasn’t about to fire his best man for the job, as the stakes were too high, so Catus reassured himself that his career wasn’t in jeopardy. However, his deputy and First Officer General, Maxwell, had taken a little vacation last night to Heaven, with a knife in his back, so Catus was at a loss for who to promote. Maxwell had been a fine officer, and it didn’t seem like any other men could live up to his standards.

Just then, like a cliché action movie, his door burst open and two of his men burst in, jostling each other like a pair of goddamned children. One of them was Yekatov, a sniper that smiled far too often, but the other was a dark-haired man whom Catus didn’t recognize. 

“Sir,” They both greeted him. 

“General Nara, sir,” Yekatov began. “I have a young man here who might be of use to you.”

‘Very well.” 

“Ol’ Charming here is, um, the victim’s betrothed. He knows his way around the apartment and can tell you some stuff about her, if ya want.”

Catus sighed. “Yekatov, I have no need of a way around the apartment, thank you very much. What we need right now is more men who can take down the assassin we are hunting--we needn’t worry about her target--”

“Wait!” Yekatov put his hands out. “Sir, that’s just the thing, is that Princey can, like, take down a full grown, armed man. He’s fully trained, and he was the best fighter and marksman in our squadron during training--You definitely want him on your team, sir.”

Catus narrowed his eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Philip, Philip Smith, sir.”

“Well,” Catus replied, “I’m in the mood for some violence. Let’s see what you can do.”

Philip blinked, then looked uncertainly at Yekatov. 

“Smith, it just so happens I’m looking for a soldier to take Maxwell’s place as my right-hand-man, and from what I see, you’re a bit of a nobody, so you don’t have the liberty of being slow with me.”

The young man paused, then aimed a punch to Yekatov’s neck. He quickly wrapped his arm around the sniper’s waist, and tackled him to the ground, effectively winding him and disarming him, all in a flash right before Catus’s eyes. He had to admit, he was impressed...the man couldn’t be more than, what? 25?

Philip helped his friend up, who was not that hurt but seemed more than a little shocked at his comrade’s fighting prowess. Catus smiled.

“Well done, private,” He said coolly. “I’ll think about it.”

****************

At the same time in a mansion not quite twenty minutes away, Aurora Irons stumbled along a dark hallway, holding on to an assassin’s arm, who was quite uncomfortable with the physical contact but enjoying Aurora’s immense discomfort as well.

“Here, we have the main library,” Maleficent said, her voice like silk. Aurora found herself being lulled by the sound, although she found it silly to think of. 

_This is the woman that tried to kill you, Aurora had to remind herself. Although, not really you, but your dad, but still…_

 

“In my study, where you entered first, I have some books, but not a lot...we have a lot more here, and of more variety. As such, you are welcome to come here and read, if you like.”

“I should like that very much,” Aurora agreed. “And um,--”

“You can call me Maleficent.”

“Sure, um...Maleficent...I think I can walk on my own now.” She laughed nervously. How had she come to so easily trust this woman? Because she had offered her kindness in the wake of a crisis? Because she seemed to listen to what Aurora had to say instead of ignoring her like her father did? She couldn’t trust her, and as much as she wanted to believe that the woman had some semblance of kindness in her killer’s heart, she knew better.

Or did she? What did she know of the world, really, beyond her apartment, her friends, and Philip? Aurora knew she was, (though she tried to convince herself otherwise,) incredibly naive. All her life, her father had been distant, though undoubtedly a “good” figure in the minds of the three nannies (Flittle, Knotgrass, and Thistlewhit) that had practically raised her until she was sixteen.

Her nannies had told her always that people like her father were good and to stay away from people who were “bad”--the homeless, the goth, the drunks, the creepy-looking, anyone who didn’t fit the mold--Aurora was warned to stay away from strangers of all types.

And--oh, the _naiveté_ of it all--Aurora had believed them, had grown up judgemental, and rather snobbish (she did admit that to herself). And here was this assassin, Maleficent, who was definitely one of the people her nannies wouldn’t like, and yet...she saved Aurora’s life, when her own father had thrown it away? What happened to just straight good and evil?

As her head reeled from her confusion, she could feel Maleficent peel away. She put a hand to the wall to steady herself, clutched her injured hand close to her waist, and offered a small nod to the assassin.

“Quite alright?” The same neutral, if a bit standoffish, tone. 

“Yeah, thank you…”

They walked in silence down yet another hallway (how many were there? Aurora had lost count), and Maleficent showed her practically almost all the rooms in the gigantic mansion. Maleficent’s room (Aurora knew she had the good sense to never go in if she valued her life, but naturally she was still curious), Diaval’s room (This she could see inside, and it was small, cozy, and very, very messy), and all the other ornate bathrooms with clawed bathtubs and bedrooms with tiled fireplaces. The whole house seemed very old. They walked, and walked, and walked until Aurora thought she would surely get lost, until they came to a glass door that lead out to a beautiful garden. Aurora pushed the door open and quietly stepped outside.

Oh, and how it was beautiful. There was a slight morning chill, so she wrapped the robe tighter around her shoulders, but sunlight was dappled on the leaves of small apple trees and shrubbery. Wildflowers grew where Aurora stood, and hydrangeas grew beside her arms. There were several stone statues laying about, covered with cobwebs. Crows, angels, and...Gargoyles? Aurora shivered, but continued walking nonetheless.

A little untamed, the garden had obviously been forgotten for quite some time but with a little love and care, the garden could be a beautiful space to read and explore. Aurora looked back to find Maleficent gazing at her, not with a smile or a frown gracing her lips, but something…unreadable. She found it hard to meet the other woman’s intimidating gaze, so she quickly looked away and plucked a flower to tuck behind her ear. 

“Miss…Miss Maleficent, may I ask you…a question?” Aurora had several weighing heavily on her mind, but it took all of her courage to keep her voice from shaking. There was something so innately dangerous about the way the woman carried herself, it was nearly impossible for Aurora to even get the words out of her mouth. 

“Yes.”

“What’s the plan? I mean, after all this--”

The assassin snorted. “I have no idea.” She smirked. “I probably know even less than you do. How do you think I felt when suddenly my plans change so quickly, and instead of killing someone as per usual, I have her under my charge?”

Aurora suddenly felt very small. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it--”

The assassin strode over to her, and (somewhat forcefully) cupped her chin and tilted it up. “Listen, Aurora, if you’re going to keep apologizing for every single thing you say, you’ll be eaten alive once you’re out of my care. You need to realize the whole I’m-a-small-and-helpless-maiden façade doesn’t work in the real world. You need to show some teeth, like _this_ ,” And Aurora thought she would sink to her knees in fear when the woman grimaced widely, showing her sharpened back teeth in a snarl, and then laughed mirthlessly. 

“It might work while you’re sixteen, but not everyone is as…” She paused to consider her words. “hospitable as I am,” and then another cold smirk.

“F--fine!” Aurora straightened her shoulders as best she could. “I merely asked a question, I have..no wish for you to respond so haughtily.”

Maleficent regarded her with that neutral gaze, and replaced her smirk with a--was that a small smile? 

“In any case, I doubt you have anywhere to go after this, as you and I are probably being hunted down, so I suppose you could stay here until it’s safe for you to walk the streets, and then we could arrange passage out of the city, where you could begin a new life with a new identity.”

“What about you?”

“Curious little beastie,” Maleficent responded coolly. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know. I was…curious?” Aurora offered with a smile.

“Well, in that case,” the assassin chuckled, “I shall blend into the shadows once more, like I have been doing my whole life. Escaping from your father and his men shouldn’t prove too hard.”

“That sounds rather lonely, doesn’t it? Aren’t you sick of running all the time?”

Maleficent cocked her brow. “Well, when you kill people for a living, you have to get used to the lifestyle change. Besides, I have Diaval, though I suspect he might settle down with one of his boy toys sooner or later.” Aurora blushed.

“Thank you for letting me--”

“Of course, I might still use you as a hostage,” Maleficent grinned. I was a wild, unnatural-looking thing. “I still hope to somehow demand a lot of money from your father, though I have no intention of handing you over to him, so no worries. If I exchange you for a couple million dollars, it might be beneficial to be in the beginning, but there’s no doubt your father will psychologically take advantage of you to figure out my whereabouts, and I can’t have that. Although, if you do decide to leave this place, I will too. I’ll have to switch residencies, so you won’t be able to track me back in case you get interrogated. Quite inconvenient, really, but then again, you yourself have proven to be quite an inconvenience in general, not that I care that much.”

Aurora blinked. Maleficent bowed lightly, mockingly.

“As such, I hope you do not mind, Aurora, I have some…personal business to attend to, and I will be ending our little tour now. I’ll be in my study.” She left the girl alone in the gardens, equally in wonder, fear, and amazement. 

Aurora wondered how she didn’t try to run away from this place, when her caretaker seemed so dangerous, and slightly volatile. Of course she didn’t care if the assassin got hunted down--though Maleficent had saved her life, it was only after trying to kill her--but a very, very small part of Aurora realized that Maleficent excited her, freefalling through life. She could have killed Aurora, but she didn’t; that had to mean something, right? 

The assassin was dangerous, but exceedingly beautiful. A diamond hanging off the edge of a cliff. If somehow Aurora left, her life may be safe from the assassin, but it would feel dull. Maleficent had introduced a new thrill to the world--showed her a new, less sheltered, more deathly side of life.

And Aurora, to her own shock, loved it.


	9. An Angel with a Devil's Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry these updates are so irregular, but I'm thinking about how I want this story to go and it's making no hella sense, so I gotta clear my muddled mind first before I can get any chicken scratches out on this electronic paper.

“Seven of spades, and queen of hearts--that means--”

“I win!”

“Aw shit, _really_?”

“Yup!”

“Goddamnit.”

“We can play again.”

“Yupperoo.”

Aurora leaned back in her chair, face smug, as Diaval reluctantly shuffled the cards again after a crushing defeat in _Sleeper Agent_ , a complicated card game the latter had taught to her about a week after she had arrived at Maleficent’s house. She had caught on quickly, and now Diaval found her to be equal, if not better than himself, and he more than slightly regretted it.

“How’s your arm, by the way?” Diaval asked politely. He suspected that although her arm was mostly healed (due to his own fabulous doctor work), as he had checked it regularly, Diaval knew that Aurora would be staying with them for a while. Really, where did she have, to escape to?

It had been almost three weeks Aurora had been here and Diaval had been outside of the premises exactly twelve times. And each and every time, he had either seen Aurora’s face pop up in the “missing” section of the local newspaper, or heard several civilians chatter about the “missing daughter of that rich old businessman”. Her face was plastered everywhere he looked, no doubt her precious daddy-o had paid tons of money to get his point across. A hefty reward had been offered for any whereabouts information of the young blonde; Stefan Irons probably had wanted to wring any information out of his daughter he could get, and that Diaval doubted would be painless.

“Oh! It’s, um…” Aurora smiled sheepishly. “It’s actually quite alright, I pretty much have full movement and it only hurts when I poke it, heh. I hope you don’t mind, though, is it alright if I…stay a little longer? I’ll earn my keep, I promise, it’s just--”

“No need for that, sweet girl.” Diaval interrupted. The girl had already helped out the best she could--cooking, cleaning. He was grateful; the house had never been cleaner and more filled with cheer. He knew that Aurora was afraid to go out of the house lest a passerby call her out, or worse: one of her father’s cronies catch her and drag her back to question her about Maleficent and then continue to live in her arranged marriage and loveless family. Aurora had taken to confiding in Diaval a lot of her secrets (him being the only human being around for her to talk to; Maleficent had deliberately avoided the girl and only said a simple “hello” during the few interactions they had in the halls), and Diaval had gleaned this info from the blonde girl.

“It’s cruel,” He said suddenly, and Aurora looked up. “Cruel that a girl should be afraid of her own father. Y’know, they should be having a nice daddy-girl bond, instead of this shit. And,” He dropped his voice low, “Don’t say I told you this, but Maleficent’s had a pretty rough go of it with her dad as well.”

Aurora looked shocked. “What do you mean?”

Diaval sighed. “Mal doesn’t like much to talk about her childhood, but I know her dad was a big, scary guy. He wasn’t around much, but when he was, he roughed up her mom quite a bit.” 

“That’s horrible!”

Diaval nodded. There was a pause.

“...if it’s not too much trouble, do you mind giving me more information on Maleficent? I--I’m curious, after so long, but we never see each other, and she’s like a mystery to me--” Aurora seemed a little flustered and intimidated. Naturally, as Diaval could well imagine, the idea of Maleficent intrigued and frightened people. 

“Hah!” He chuckled. “Sure, but there’s not really much to tell, you see, that’s sort of her schtick: remaining a mystery to even those she knows well. It’s kind of like an emotional barrier she put up after what Stefan did to her--Oh.” He realized he may have said too much, and Aurora let out a little gasp.

“What did my dad do to her, exactly, to make her so…withdrawn?”

Diaval shook his head. “Dearie, that’s a topic of conversation I would be wary of. Even I don’t know, to be honest.” He half-smiled. “I would, however,” (steering the topic of conversation well away from the subject he knew Maleficent would flay him alive if she knew he was talking about) “be happy to tall you about when I knew her in her mid-twenties and we had a case to kill someone in the middle of a nightclub, and she ended up dancing for like an hour!”

Aurora giggled, a little shocked. “Really?”

“Oh really,” Diaval grinned.

*********

Maleficent tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she stood at the door to the study where she could clearly hear every word Diaval and Aurora had said for the past hour.   
_How dare Diaval reveal my personal life to this...this…beast?_

But it wasn’t just that. Maleficent had issues with Diaval being so carefree and loose-lipped when she herself had spent years guarding her secrets, but she was pissed off that her companion had so easily won the heart of the young girl with his chatter while she had remained cold and impassive. She had wanted to make the girl feel more at home (a strange feeling of Maleficent’s; she usually felt the opposite and couldn’t figure out why) and she had struggled along with talking to the girl, but as usual, Aurora had looked upon her with trepidation, as most people did, and shied away. So, Maleficent retreated to spending her days in the study, reading, or in the gym, training her body to kill once more.

She had wanted to at least talk to Aurora to get as much info as she could on her dad, and now here she was, beaten to the conversation by Diaval, a hapless butler who had much better people skills. Was she...Jealous? No. Or...maybe? Another lump in her throat, and she fought to keep it down. They were laughing at her now, she could hear through the thin wooden door.

 _Why are you being such a weak-ass, goddammit_? She had let herself grow soft in the presence of someone pleasant she could not kill, and it needed to stop. Aurora was her charge, she had simply decided she wouldn't kill the girl and care for her, as she doubted anyone else would.

Maleficent raised her hand to rap on the door, but decided against it, and descended back into the darkness.

******

Aurora wandered towards her room, at around 10 pm, holding her belly and feeling full as hell from one too many creamy hot chocolates Diaval had prepared for her. 

She had grown to love chatting with Diaval; a little teasing and blunt at times, but he was amicable and never pressed her to talk about anything if she didn’t feel like it. Plus, as much as she wanted to try talking to Maleficent, whenever she passed her in the house the woman would usually leave. Aurora doubted she’d even be able to say much in the presence of the assassin even if she had the time--what would a weak-willed, victimized little girl even have to say?

Diaval and Maleficent were, in fact, the only people Aurora had contact with for almost three weeks, she realized suddenly. She didn’t think she’d ever gone that long without proper human interaction, and although both of the two were relatively pleasant people (for Maleficent, that was stretching the truth a bit), Aurora had gone nearly mad wanting to see anyone, or to at least be allowed outside of the house. She knew it was for her own safety, and not like she really wanted to see any of her old family or friends really, she just wished she could at least venture outside of the house grounds for even a short walk to the park or grocery store.

She had expressed concern for this once, when she found Maleficent aggressively trimming the saplings in the garden.   
“Hello, Aurora. What do you want?” The assassin had asked, in her usual curt tone.

“Well, um…Maleficent, I was hoping to...maybe…go out? For a bit? To the park, even, and I’d be supervised, you or Diaval could--”

“I’m afraid, Aurora, that because we have no wish for you to be spotted and our cover blown, neither I nor Diaval will be taking the risk as to take you out. So, you can either stay, or leave on your own terms. You are under no obligation to stay here, you know. I might add,” she nodded to Aurora, “that your arm seems to be miraculously healed.” Aurora blushed. She knew she would be staying, whether she wanted to or not.

“Oh! Um, that’s…alright. I’ll be inside,” Aurora mumbled.

“mhm” was the only vague answer that Maleficent had given in return, and she had continued trimming like no tomorrow. _oh well, I guess we all do things to keep ourselves entertained_ , Aurora noted to herself as she walked inside.

Strangely, as Aurora now walked to her room, she heard several noises coming from a closed door which she passed. Muffled yells and…was that _workout music_?

Not being able to help her curiosity, Aurora knocked on the door. No answer came, and she pushed it open.

The True Love’s Kiss Assassin certainly was living up to her name now, punching and delivering vicious kicks to the living daylights out of a boxing dummy. The room she was in had obviously been one of the old bedrooms, but the assassin had covered the floor with carpets and various pieces of training equipment. Maleficent herself looked like some version of The Bride or Lara Croft, dressed in a form-fitting army green tanktop and short shorts, sweat plastering her hair to her face and an almost angry look of determination on her sharp features. 

Aurora made the mistake of stepping forward a little too far, which caused the old floorboards to make a slight _creak_.

As if on cue, and with the help of (fucking scary, Aurora might add) crazy-assassin reflexes, Maleficent whipped around with a screech, delivering a quick punch to Aurora, and it caught her square in the nose, which promptly started gushing blood. 

“ _Aurora_? Shit!” 

The assassin too late realized who she had attacked, and looked at her hand as if to reprimand it. looked frantically around for something to block the blood, as Aurora started apologizing quickly.

“M...Maleficent, I-I-I’m s...so sorry!” She stammered, blinking rapidly to try and block the tears from coming out her eyes.

“Whuh--Aurora, what the _hell_ were you thinking?” Maleficent asked wearily while handing Aurora a black shawl, pressing it to her nose. “I--I’m terribly sorry I... _punched_ you, but you can’t really expect me to not react like that, can you?” She chuckled softly, and Aurora felt nice that her laugh wasn’t full of any malice like usual. “You should know better than to sneak up on me.” She messily tied the shawl in a bandana-like cover around Aurora’s nose, stopping the blood and making her look like a deranged cowboy in the process.

“I’m sorry! I...just heard, y’know, like exercise noises and I’m so curious all the time about…” She trailed off, her nose still throbbing painfully.

“...about?” Maleficent pondered.

“Well, we never see each other anymore!” Aurora blushed at the sudden stupidity of her words, but pressed on. “I mean, not like _that_ , y’know, but…well, you said not to apologize for what I say--so I’m not going to! And...we never see each other, it’s like you’re avoiding me. You really can’t hide, it’s just a house, Maleficent! And...I think Diaval’s an interesting fellow, he’s ok, but I find you interesting to talk to, and…” she stopped, smiling. “I must be rambling a shitload of stuff right now!” She laughed nervously.

Maleficent’s harsh features relaxed. “Yeah. Kind of. So, what...did you want to talk to me about in particular?” She raised one eyebrow. “I was in the middle of…something.” She suddenly found Aurora suppressing a giggle.

“What’s so funny?” 

Aurora smiled. “Well, um…you have a blood mustache.” She giggled again, and Maleficent looked in the mirror on the wall to find that indeed, she had a swipe of Aurora’s blood across her lower lip. _How the hell did that even get there? I look like a goddamned fool._

“Well,” The assassin began indignantly, “You look like a...deranged cowboy with that shawl around your bloody nose!” She huffed, but Aurora burst out laughing even louder and Maleficent found it was infectious; she couldn’t help but laugh as well. 

Aurora found herself slowly being at ease with Maleficent, here, in this weird training room, and she didn’t know exactly why. _Get a hold of yourself, Aurora. Is she any less intimidating? No...so why do I feel...comfort? Ease?_

Still, as much as her instincts were positively screaming at her that the assassin was dangerous and not to be trusted, Aurora couldn’t help but laugh with Maleficent. After being miserable for so long, it just came so easy to Aurora to lapse back into her old, cheery self in the company of the assassin. Oh, how she _missed_ this feeling! Laughing, and smiling, had come so rare to her ever since her dad had picked her up that one day from school, telling her she would never be going back. 

Maleficent sighed. “How very foolish we both look.”

Aurora nodded in agreement, and began to wander around the spacious training room, running her fingers lightly along the punching bags and dagger targets. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Every day, unless I’m in the field,” replied Maleficent softly, keeping her front to Aurora. 

“Could...could I see?”

“What?” The assassin had a look of confusion, all hints of her previous laughter had been gone.

“I mean, could I see you...like…I dunno, throw a dagger or something?” Aurora looked down sheepishly. “It sounds stupid, but, it would be kind of cool.”

The brunette shrugged. “Very well, if you want me to, I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

She opened a cabinet of thin, sharp throwing knives and walked over to the center of the room where she faced a human-sized wooden target, marked with gouges and torn up from previous knives. She gently nudged Aurora out of the way, who involuntarily shivered at the contact, and took a deep breath. Suddenly, her arm wound back, and in the blink of an eye, she shot her arm forward, sending the knife whizzing comically into the target with a _thwack_. It stuck right in the heart. Aurora was impressed but not necessarily surprised--this was the city’s most dangerous killer, after all.

“Wow!” She said softly. “That was pretty good.”

Maleficent smirked and made a mocking bow, dipping her head low.

However, this made Aurora see two things she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to.

Two scars, to be exact. One on each side of her shoulder blades.

Aurora gasped gently, and Maleficent realized her error and popped back up in horror, afraid she had shown too much. There was a scar on each shoulder blade that ran the length of the entire bone, and then curved up at the top--almost like angel wings. However, whoever had made the marks had done a messy job of it, tearing and bunching up the skin so the cuts were jagged and rough. The scars looked very old, and yet they had not healed. They looked awful. _Awful and painful_ , Aurora thought to herself.

Maleficent made a sound that sounded like a choke, and steeled her face as she got up and tried to flee.

“Aurora, you should not have--I’m sorry--”

“ _Wait_.”

Aurora shot a hand out boldly, to both of their surprise; barring Maleficent from leaving, and put a gentle hand on the assassin’s wrist, who yanked it away menacingly but continued to stay there, carefully keeping her back turned away from the blonde. 

“ _What_?” The brunette asked, her voice filled with so much more pain, wrath and anguish than Aurora could ever have thought. She thought for a moment. She could not possibly know what the assassin had gone through to get those scars, she knew that. But she did have an inkling of who did them, and the thought filled her with dread.

“Maleficent,

“Did my father do this to you?”


	10. Petty Marks Don't Leave Scars

“Did my father do this to you?”

Such a simple question. And oh, such a horrible answer, simple as it too may be.

***********

“Shit, Mal, you’re wasted. What’d you have, like two glasses of beer?”

“Naw, hun.” She giggled, and a hiccup sneaked its way in. “Like _five-friggin-thousand_.”

“What a fuckin’ lightweight,” Stefan laughed and nuzzled Maleficent’s neck, sending a heat burning to her cheeks. He was getting loose, and too close, _too close because people are staring_ but she wanted them to stare _because they’re jealous. Jealous that we’re such a goddamn cute couple, aren’t we?_

“You got the good ale I gave you, right, Mal?” Stefan pondered, while simultaneously kissing her throat gently. “Not that bastard Hubert’s shots?”

“’Course, babe.”

“Good. ‘Cause, like, I don’t want you drinking any of Hub’s swill. Only the best for my baby, courtesy of KTM House.”

They were in the basement of one of the most prestigious frat houses a boy could ever hope to get in at Aladdin U, Kappa Theta Meta. Maleficent was so proud of her boo for finally making it in, they’d gone to the annual Christmas party that year throwing caution to the wind and deciding to have the best time of their lives. Mal was more than a little nervous—she’d seen the way other members of the frat looked at her hungrily—but her worry disappeared with her inhibitions as she downed drink after drink. It was a special occasion, after all—she should have been able to drink as much as she wanted, right? Her baby said so.

Suddenly, Mal’s eyes wandered around the room and locked with a very, very attractive black-haired boy in the back. He had a strong jawline, what looked like windswept hair, and one of those devilish smirks that made her weak in the knees. Not that she liked him, or anything, since Stefan was such an amazing guy, but Maleficent knew a good-lookin’ kid when she saw one.

Still, the way he looked at her gave her just a slight chill down in the small of her back.

“Hey honey, I dunno…,” She began, but the beer in her system made her still feel fluttery. “I don’t really like the way that guy is looking at me. He seems kinda creepy, don’tcha think?”

“Oh him?” Stefan laughed. “That’s Eric. He’s like, the fuckin’ _ringleader_ of Kappa Theta Meta, man. You have him to thank for me getting’ in, pretty much.”

And then, almost imperceptibly, Stefan’s smile wavered just a little bit as her stared off in the boy’s direction. Maleficent followed his gaze, but Eric was gone.

_Creep. I’m not gonna let him ruin my mood,_ She thought, and kissed Stefan on the lips, hard.

 

*******

 

Maleficent whipped around with such a ferocity that Aurora could feel her hair getting lifted gently off her face. She could see the anger in those frightening green eyes, and wanted for the life of her to step back and out of the room, but the brunette’s expression changed, softly, to…what looked like _hurt_.

They stood, face to face, for what Aurora felt like was hours. Finally, with a barely audible gulp, Maleficent’s shoulders straightened and composure regained.

“ _Yes_ ,” she whispered. It was a shadow of her normal voice, barely there, and yet full of all the emotions Aurora knew not of: fear, anger, hurt, all covered with an impenetrable layer of sadness that made Aurora shiver.

Then, the assassin took one last look at Aurora, face unreadable, and pushed past her roughly, and out the door with a whoosh.

Aurora was left standing in the dim light of the room, mind reeling from the more than uncomfortable situation. She hadn’t meant to— _oh God, I haven’t meant to do anything!_ —she simply was a curious girl, and yet again it had gotten her into trouble. _Why, why can’t I just keep my goddamn mouth shut?! Oh God, Maleficent—what if she…kicks me out? Or worse, decides to take her anger out on me?_

Creepier still, though, was the lone thought at the back of Aurora’s mind that pushed through all the others.

_I’m descended from this monster who did that to her._

What, exactly, did her father do? To…to make a stone-cold, ruthless assassin come crumbling to near-tears?

_Oh God_. Aurora hurried out the door, searching for Diaval.

*********

“F…Fuc.. _fuck_.”

“Aw look, Stef, your girlfriend’s too scared.” Flynn laughed, as he and the other boys were huddled in the upstairs master bedroom of the frat house. Maleficent couldn’t remember why or how she got here, except something bad was happening, _I have to get out please let me out of here_ but Stefan was cold, impassive.

She looked down but it didn’t feel like her body, it felt like…a cloud? And then she knew:

_I've been drugged._

All she knew was that she didn’t have any clothes on except for underwear, and she felt horribly exposed because _the boys are too close to me. Where the fuck is Stefan?_ Her kickboxing skills felt useless now, she felt like she was in a pool of molasses and couldn’t move her limbs except slowly, lethargically. She would have used the knife in her boot, _except where the fuck are my boots?_

Suddenly, a strong male presence could be felt behind her. Maleficent turned her head and Eric, the black-haired boy she saw from earlier, put his hands on her shoulders and up and down her body.

_Stop it stop it stop it stop—_

“Stef…stef’n!” Maleficent caught the eye of her boyfriend, who was sitting with a somewhat pained expression in the corner of the room. _What is he doing?_ “Stef…an!”

The touches got more intense and uncomfortable _stop it please_! Maleficent found it in herself to thrash about, as much as her weakened body could, which was only really lolling her head and arms side-to-side. Eric paused for a moment, then resumed and began kissing her, hard, and the pleading voice in Mal’s head grew to a scream.

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK THERE IS NO WAY YOU’RE GONNA LET THIS HAPPEN

It took all of her strength, but she managed to bite down, as hard as she could, on Eric’s tongue.

“Ow—what the fuck?!” He sprung back, his face a picture of horror. “You fuckin’ bitch!”

A voice. “Leave it, Eric,” it was Flynn’s voice.

“I think pretty little Mal’s had enough of your games. It’s time to actually do shit. It’s…time.”

******  
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Aurora ran down the hallway, tears streaming down her face. She burst into the kitchen, where she knew she could invariably find Diaval half the night, making a boozy hot chocolate.

“Hey—hey! Sister, what’s gotten into you?” He asked, alarmed.

“Diaval!” She sobbed fully now, without knowing why exactly, into the raven-haired man’s chest. Why was she upset? It should have been Maleficent who was the one crying, shaking, and yet Aurora (sweet, ever so fragile Aurora) was the one who had turned into a total mess. She felt like a monster.

“I…I hadn’t meant to cause any harm, I swear, Diaval, I…Only meant to ask her what those funny-looking scars were from! I suppose I shouldn’t have, any dimwit could tell that was a stupid question and I—“

Diaval grimaced. “The scars…I can see why you’re so distressed.” He gulped. “What happened then, did she hurt you?”

“No! no…she did the opposite! She looked like…she was lost, like a scared little girl, but just for a moment. Diaval, I saw her…it was like all of the pain she hadn’t let herself feel over the past ten years had come crashing into her body. I…I feel like a horrible person.” Aurora sniffled.

“There, there,” Diaval soothed, taking her into his arms. “I just…can’t believe it.”

“What?”

“Well, for starters,” He said, puzzled, “You’re in a complete mess over _Maleficent_. Like, you’re supposed to be her prisoner—our prisoner. A couple of weeks ago she wanted to kill you, and now you’re freaking out because you accidentally triggered emotions she tried to bury. I mean,” He sighed. “I know why it’s justified, but…you really are a caring little creature, aren’t you?”

“It’s just...Diaval,” Aurora began, looking off into the distance. “I may not know the story, but Maleficent got that way because of something my own father did. That’s horrible enough, but then I brought it up, and…I mean, it’s not because of her, that I’m crying, obviously, but—“

The young man raised an eyebrow. “You don’t care for her?”

Aurora blushed. “Well, I mean, I’d do the same for anyone, really. And I still haven’t forgotten that she wanted to kill me.”

“For some reason, Aurora, I get the hunch that she wouldn’t now, even if she had to.”

“Well, I dunno. I just feel like I was prying in on something I wasn’t supposed to see,” She responded.

“At least you’ve stopped crying,” Diaval smiled kindly. “And I think…”

“Yeah, Diaval?”

“I think Maleficent will be fine. She’s got her own way of handling things. Either that, or you’d best stay out of her way for the next couple of days or so. Now, off to bed with you!”

*******

Pain was all, pain was everything and in the night that surrounded her in the form of boys and clouded her vision, it was the strongest.

Maleficent was being held down, she didn’t know by whom. Searing pain could be felt on her back, and she didn’t know what the hell was happening to her but she didn’t care. She just wanted it to stop, _please stop and get me home._

Except there was no home, Stefan had been her home. Her everything, and where was he now?

Voices: undoubtedly male, low and thrumming through her veins. She hated them, especially since she couldn’t see any of them. Delirious with hurt, she gritted her teeth and tried to scream but they muffled her head into the bad, and the pain continued, and so did the voices.

“Stefan, what the fuck?”

“Yo—you’re cutting…”

“Cutting too deep…”

“It’s not supposed to scar—“

“Fuck off.”

“Only supposed to be a scratch—“

“You’re cutting…Stefan you’re making her bleed—“

“Not supposed to bleed that much—“

“How much have you had to drink, Stef?”

“Oh God, the blood—“

“Only supposed to be a scratch—“

“STOP.” This last one, cutting through the air like an arrow, was the voice of heaven, reason. It came through and then the hurt stopped and Maleficent wanted to cry with relief.

It was Flynn in the end; he was the one who pulled Stefan off her and pulled off his shirt so he could stanch the bleeding that was undoubtedly coming from her shoulder blades.

“Too far,” he spat at the others, and picked up Maleficent like a child, the way her mother used to do. “This is enough. You—“ and here he pointed at Stefan and Eric, “Make me sick. This is enough, man. I’m going home.”

No one tried to stop him as he carried Maleficent out the door and into the hall, down the stairs and on the long walk back to their dorm. A quiet had settled, Maleficent knew she was on the brink of passing out but a feeling in her gut told her Flynn wouldn't try to do anything while she slept. However, she should have felt safe. She should have given it up, known that Flynn had got her out safely, except _my back. My shoulders--what's gonna happen?_

It was Flynn who got her in to her room, she didn't know how he knew the number or that she always unlocked it but she silently thanked the heavens. Regina, her roommate, wasn't there-- _probably off doing graffiti on the dean's office_ \--but she was grateful for that, too.

Flynn laid her on the bed gently, in the fetal position. By then Maleficent had fallen asleep, so she couldn't see how he wept silent tears at the horror of what he had just witnessed, or hear him say, not without guilt,

"Congrats, Maleficent. You're a fuckin' Kappa Theta Meta Angel, now."

And in the morning, when Maleficent dragged herself out of bed in excrutiating pain and lifted her shirt off in front of the mirror, she yelled, screamed, and cried in fury and fear. What the fuck? She thought she was invincible, going to breeze through college, and she had let herself slip, let herself get so wasted and taken advantage of that she lost control of her surroundings and ended up with blotchy, bloody cuts in the crude formation of angel wings. She supposed it was a hazing ritual gone too far, but she couldn't forgive herself for letting this happen.

_An angel. More like a winged she-demon--that's what I deserve."_


	11. Rants and Roof Tiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we find Maleficent's tough exterior fade, for just a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHA YES I have done it! I thought AAHNW would peter off like so many of my other fanfics because I didn't have time but you know what? I just went and got to it and wrote this chapter in like a day. So there, h8rs ;) just kidding. 
> 
> But still. 
> 
> I'm very happy to be back on track with this fanfic and I hope y'allz are too, updates should come more regularly now!

Morning dawned bright and early on the South Side, bringing low tendrils of mist snaking their way around the houses on the dilapidated part of Mansion Row. Several crows cawed to their little hearts’ content on the old, wintery tree branches, a sound that made the cold January air seem to shiver. 

Along the creek by the backs of the houses, a lone figure breathed steadily as they jogged, nimbly stepping over the slippery, mossy stones. This trail was seldom used by humans, not only because it was difficult to navigate--several bodies had been found in the creek in this area of town, which the police never figured out the cause of. The creepy findings had, in part, contributed to the moving out of various homeowners and the reason why so many nice houses along the Row were abandoned. People on the South Side knew when to take their chances and when to get the hell out. Evidently, most of them had chosen the latter option. Still, it was not uncommon for the path beside the stream to see one pair of feet tread lightly on it nearly every now and then.

Six-thirty in the AM, and Maleficent had been up for three hours already, although she had only been running for one. It helped clear her mind, running, and this morning she felt as though she needed to get out some serious issues that were swirling around in her consciousness.

Diaval was just as much of an erratic sleeper as she was, so no doubt he’d been awake when she slipped out of her room in the dark of the dawn. No doubt he’d heard her walk out of her room, towards the opposite end of the house to where a certain blonde-haired adolescent was sleeping soundly, and then pause at the door, as if to check in on her. Maybe Diaval had heard Maleficent’s ragged, anguished breathing, but he wouldn’t have seen her put her hand on the doorknob, almost opening it. He wouldn’t have seen the assassin curse herself for letting her composure slip, and then leaving the door and the house behind as she went out the back door to run.

_Perhaps I’m overthinking things._

Maleficent’s mind couldn’t seem to focus on practically anything since that pesky little girl showed up in her life. She supposed it was her fault, but still. So many raw emotions made the assassin uncomfortable, since she had hidden hers for so long--and Aurora had plenty to spare. Maleficent, previously so callous, composed, elegant; now she tumbled through each and every day not knowing whether she was angry, fearful, overjoyed, or annoyed at everyone and everything around her. 

She felt ashamed at the fact that she had managed to let go of her emotions around Aurora. Shit, she was supposed to be the city’s most stone-hearted killer and yet a little girl made her tremble! 

She turned on her heel, once reaching the end of the stream, and headed back home.  
*******************  
“Yeah, it is!”

“No it’s not.”

“Yeah! How else do you explain countless Disney fairytales?”

“Those don’t count. They’re hollywood movies, nothing more.”

“Well, the idea had to come from somewhere, don’t you think? Like they didn’t just make it up!”

Diaval leaned back in the cheap pleather chair at Zoey’s Cafe, sipping his coconut cream latte with the determination of a man who wants something.

He had been nervous enough asking Phillip out in the first place. It was hard enough having to sneak out under Maleficent’s nose (she _expressly_ forbid any relationships for him, being as they could have their alibi blown), but to ask out a police officer was a surefire death trap if one wasn’t careful.

Still. Diaval was sick and tired of not being able to live a normal life. He figured that since Maleficent was too preoccupied with figuring out what to do with Aurora, she wouldn’t notice him slip away. In any case, he could just give an excuse--she trusted him.

Diaval was surprised that Philip had agreed to go out with him on a date ( _is this a date? Are we a thing? Does he think this is a date?_ ). They talked for a bit, and the raven-haired man was touched by the normally tough officer’s story. He had been in a loveless relationship for nigh on a year, something that wasn’t even arranged by him, and that led them to talk about the concept of true love. He found the young man’s company pleasant, and was pleased how witty he turned out to be. 

“I dunno...seems like a ploy to give single people and dysfunctional relationships the reassurance they need that love is real and true.” Philip gulped his coffee, which he took plain.

“So you don’t even think true love exists?”

“Well, I think true love exists, just not...True Love’s Kiss. It’s too ludicrous for me.”

“Bah humbug.”

“Bah Humbug yourself,” Philip replied, chuckling.

*********

When Maleficent opened the door, she was struck by an eerie feeling of loneliness. She guessed it was because Diaval wasn’t home _God damn him_ , but for a split second what if it was because Aurora had run away?

_Shit! Diaval should never have--_

That guy was forever disobeying her, but Mal hated when he left because things always seemed to go to shit without him around. She started walking towards Aurora’s room, desperately hoping the girl hadn’t escaped. She could still have used her as a hostage, or failing that Aurora on the loose would mean she could blab about their location and then everything would be ruined, God damnit!

_I should stop being so profane._

When she reached the girl’s room, she firmly knocked on the door. No response, but the door was unlocked and she pushed it open gently. _Hey, if that little bugger thinks she can just go into places without knocking, why shouldn’t I be able to?_

The room was dark, it still being a winter morning and the sun was on the brink of rising.

“Aurora?”

Maleficent strained to see any form lying in the bed, but nothing was there. The girl had gone awol. God damnit. Was the window open? Had Aurora climbed down the rickety veranda into the garden? Or...was she out on her balcony?

_Fuck this. I should go and kickbox._

But, like many things Maleficent couldn’t resist, it was discovering things. And she absolutely hated not keeping tabs on everyone she knew. Aurora would just have to deal with a little surprise.

The balcony door, indeed, proved to be open. Maleficent could hear a noise that seemed to be dreamlike and far off, but when she stepped out on the balcony in the glorious morning sunrise, no one was there. She almost considered calling out Aurora’s name, but that would be stupid. Still, she was worried. What if the girl had escaped and was now on the warpath to revealing their location?

Suddenly, a red projectile came flying at Maleficent’s head with such severity if she’d been standing a few inches to the right she was sure it would have come clean off her neck. It hit the railing and bounced off; when she picked it up, she noticed it was a roof tile _but what the fuck is a roof tile doing moving that fast._

_Oh hell. It’s gonna be an interesting day_. Maleficent climbed up the gable, hooking her feet into the board slats so to not fall to a horrible, horrible death, and possibly make a fool of herself in front of that stupid girl.

As she neared the top, Maleficent crawled around the side to see if she could scope Aurora out without being seen. _It wouldn’t do to have her thinking I followed her_. She could almost see over the top--If only she hoisted herself up--

When Maleficent jumped on to the roof, she was greeted with a surprise. 

The young blonde girl had her back to her, although Maleficent could see the back of her shaking, wracked with crying, and every so often a small sob would escape from her mouth. She kicked roof tiles, raining them down, which made little crashes on the porch. Maleficent was in a state of shock--She’d seen the girl emotional before, but this? _Weird._ She was unsure whether to disturb the girl in her obviously unstable state, but part of her was curious. Plus, she may have felt a tiny bit bad for Aurora. Maybe the little beast had grown on her.

“Aur...Aurora?” Maleficent silently scolded herself for having such a harsh, synthetic-sounding voice. _What the fuck am I doing, on a roof, with the child I’m supposed to simultaneously hate, and yet care for?_

Aurora’s head whipped around, her face stricken with tears and her eyes red. She tried to wipe off her face, but as it was obvious she couldn’t conceal her sobbing, she instead looked like she was at a loss for words. She seemed to be searching for something to say, but came up blank. Her face looked weary and childlike, all at once. 

Somewhere, deep down in Maleficent’s black, hardened heart, a string broke. She felt... _pity_. A small amount, not anything too special, but it struck Maleficent as odd, and...and...She felt annoyed at herself for allowing a little bit of her composure to slip. Again. 

“What--what are you doing up here?” Aurora began. And then, in a murmur, “no one was supposed to find me.” 

The assassin, brain sharp like a razor, let the lie flow through her as smooth as water. “I was cleaning the upstairs porches.” Then, raising her eyebrow for effect, she added “When all of a sudden, I was nearly hit by a flying projectile.” Aurora looked frightened for a moment, and then her eyes filled with tears once more, to Maleficent’s dismay. _What are the goddamn neighbours going to think?_

“I--I’m s--s--sorry!” The girl bawled. “I didn’t mean to almost hit you, I just needed to let off steam beacause...problems...and I didn’t know where to go and I saw the ridge and I--”

A long sigh from the Assassin stopped her mid-sentence. She sat there, waiting for the assassin to strike her or menace her. She did neither.

“Do you…” And here Maleficent racked her brain, for little-used words of consolation. “Do you want to...talk about it…?”

Aurora lowered her eyes, then almost imperceptibly shook her head. They sat in silence, in the morning mist, for what seemed like an eternity. And then, something Aurora had never done before, she got up and started to climb down, leaving Maleficent alone with her thoughts. Maybe…

“Aurora?” She called out. The girl raised her eyes to the assassin, fearful again.

_Shit. What mess have I gotten myself into again?_

“Would you...like to train with me sometime?” _What does she think I mean?_ “I mean, you’re a very...vulnerable girl. Perhaps you would like to learn some self-defense? In order to not look like such a deer in the headlights?”

Aurora exhaled slowly, and then something resembling a smile crossed her face.

“I think...I would like that very much.”


	12. Boxing and Tears (The Two Go Hand in Hand, Really)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOOOOOOOO
> 
> It's been a long ride. My fic still kinda sucks ass, I have no beta reader, I'm hella stressed with school, and struggling with a great many issues in life. However, I realized that the small but voracious Malora community is my LIFE FUEL and I love it! Like any fanart or fics I will devour with an amazing appetite, so if y'all want to send me stuff or comment on my fic, that'd be great :)
> 
> Anyhow, I'm gonna really try hard to get some regular updates going on this thing. Gotta show some damn commitment.

“Bloody Hell.”

The first words uttered out of Aurora’s mouth since she awoke, and yet she wished they were her last. She wanted to _die_ , this training was so hard. It sucked the energy right out of her and made her feel like a sluggish, lazy brute in front of lithe Maleficent. 

The assassin was standing in front of her with her bare palms facing Aurora and her back straight, her legs bent and ready. She doesn’t even need boxing pads. Her hair was in two sleek braids, and she was wearing short cargo pants and a tanktop that showed of years of clearly amazing work in self-defense. Aurora, on the other hand, had on one of Maleficent’s old pants and t-shirt, dirty from days of wear and now sweaty from her extreme workout.

She had never considered herself to be physically fit, but this sealed the deal. What Aurora had expected to be a little tip or two from the assassin on how to defend herself had become waking up and 5:30 am, struggling to keep up with Maleficent on their morning run through slippery rocks and stumps, and being constantly berated. Now, it was a little after 8 in the morning and Maleficent was trying to get her to punch her hands. It was all too much effort.

Aurora frantically whacked her hands through the air this way and that, but felt increasingly helpless as the older woman made no audible sounds of encouragement. Then again, Maleficent didn’t really make any sounds at all. She loved her silence, she did. Finally, Aurora put her hands down.

“I...don’t think I can--”

“Nonsense,” replied the assassin. “You’re doing fine. You’ve already improved.”

“No, no, I mean thank you,” Aurora blushed involuntarily. “I just don’t think this is going to help me. In real life, I mean, like a real-life fight.”

Maleficent cocked her head to the side, amused. “You want me to train you for a _real life fight_?”

“I...I just..” _God fucking damnit_ , why did speaking to the assassin always tie her up? “I mean, just blatantly flinging punches around won’t protect me from someone much stronger than I am, will it?”

“Perhaps not, but I’m training you for stamina, not skill yet. You’re too inexperienced--I’ll save that for soon. Already one morning in, and you’re complaining you need advanced skills.”

_Fuck! No, that’s not...man, I’m tired_. “No, it’s not what I meant...I mean, sorta...but...I...suppose--that if I were up against you, they wouldn’t work, would they?”

Maleficent chuckled. “Of course not. But most lecherous henchmen who would want to hurt you are far less skilled in the art of true combat than I am.”

“I just…” Aurora had never struggled for words more in her life than when she was talking to the assassin. She felt her eyes well up with tears, and felt like a child because of it. Maybe--maybe she was just tired and hungry and the seeing Maleficent’s amused smile made her angry and gave her a slightly woozy feeling in her head--

“Christ.” Maleficent stopped. “If you really wanted to stop, _beastie_ , you could have just told me.” Her posture still straight, her eyes took on a slightly more...was that a concerned look?

“I’m sorry! I just..I’m so tired, and weak compared to you, and…issues with myself I haven’t resolved yet, and…”

“Hush.” The tone definitely wasn’t motherly, it was more as if the assassin was awkward around emotions and was trying her best to give comfort. “Well, I will say you do love your breakdowns.”

This elicited a meek laugh from Aurora. “I’m sorr--”

“I thought I told you to stop saying sorry. It makes people take advantage of you.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Do you...want to talk...about anything?” Maleficent seemed to roll the words around in her mouth, clearly not used to playing the counselor. Aurora just looked at her fearfully, not moving, afraid to nod or shake her head. “Alright, that’s...ok. We all have secrets we prefer not to share, and thank fucking god for that.” She looked Aurora up and down, and then, in a sweet, albeit somewhat awkward movement, put her hands on Aurora’s shoulders as if to steady her. The blonde flinched, but did not say anything, and stopped her crying. 

“I’m acting like such a child, Maleficent, and for that I apologize, it must be hell for--” She said, looking down.

“No.” The brunette took her hands off Aurora’s shoulder, and she exhaled slowly. “Aurora, I...hope you know that I have no intention of killing you, right?”

“Um...Yeah?”

“Because you seem awfully scared every time I come near or talk to you.”

Aurora smiled ruefully. “Well, you are a little intimidating…”

“No, I mean it. I have no intention of holding you as a hostage to your father, either. You...can rest easy in this house, I want you to know. You may never trust me, ” and for this she sighed. “And for that I understand, as I did...try to kill you. But I will not now.” 

The blonde looked worried, still. “How...why?”

Maleficent quirked an eyebrow. “I have no use for you to use against your father, as he already stated his claim that he cares less about your personal safety and more about killing his longtime enemy. He is the most powerful man in the city, so I suppose he has his ways of getting what he wants.”

“Why not kill me then, if I’m of no use to you? I must be a terrible burden you’ve got to keep.”

“Well,” Maleficent looked around. “I’d say you and I are on the same side, if you show as much fear and loathing towards your father now as I do. As well...well, it gets rather lonely around here. Diaval is a help but he can often be...irritating. Although I will never have any real friends, if I murdered you in cold blood, especially after you saved my life all those months ago, well then I’d have to _go out of my way_ to find a companion. And that’s terribly hard, given my circumstances.” She winked at the girl. “So, a great many reasons.”

Aurora smiled, a small bit. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“You seem to think that a lot.”

This made the girl smile just a little bit more. “Thank...you.”

“For not killing you when I so easily and readily could?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, enough, enough already with the useless pleasantries,” Maleficent returned brusquely, back to her old neutral demeanor. “I suppose you’re going to do horribly with training if you’re famished and tired. You are dismised--for now.”

“Oh. Alright.” Aurora walked slowly backwards, head facing down, when she remembered something. “Wait...why do you sometimes call me _beastie_?”

“I don't.” Maleficent raised her eyebrows.

"But I just--"

"Wherever did you get that idea?"

“Oh.” Aurora tried to rack her brain from their conversation without being distracted by the brunette’s piercing green eyes boring into her. “Um...I just...Alright. I'll--see ya.”

Aurora tried to search the assassin’s face for any hint of a previous smil, but found none. _And we were so close_. She decided not to test her patience and dutifully left the room, closing the door behind her. Once outside the room, she found herself smiling, like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She would probably never unlock whatever agonizing secret the assassin was trying so hard to hide, but at least she knew that Maleficent harboured less ill will towards her than she previously thought. 

She blinked, realizing that her problems weren’t over (in fact, they may only have been just beginning), but she was determined to make the assassin reveal more about her shadowy past, no matter what it took. And possibly make her...less gloomy, as well. It was only fair.

********

“Where the fuck is my daughter, Shang? My patience is on a short fuse, and you’ve just lit it!”

Stefan’s hands were shaking. They’d done that a lot ever since his idiotic doctor had perscribed supposed anti-anger medication, of which he was supposed to take copious amounts. God, how he was fed up with the whole Kissing Case. He wished the assassin ( _damn her, the little hideaway_ ) would be found already, with or without a hostage or a dead girl by her side. He didn’t know how long Maleficent managed to keep Aurora without revealing her location--after all, hostages were expensive, and time-consuming--but he had given up caring. He simply wanted to know where the assassin was, and finding Aurora would mean finding her.

After Catus Nara had proven, well, to be rather disposable, and that blasted Philip was always off on his own looking for God knows what, Stefan had decided he needed a new commander. Nara was swiftly gotten rid of, and promptly replaced with a certain Li Shang (that name oozed condescendence), a well-built Asian man who had a previous criminal record. He had risen up though the ranks using what Stefan considered pure force, and although he hadn’t personally seen him out in the field, he had confidence. 

However, several months had passed and the men were just as clueless as ever--it looked like Shang was no better than the rest of them. It was like Maleficent had vanished into thin air, and Stefan hated to lose anything. It was humiliating (not to mention time and money-draining), and Li Shang had yet to prove his worth. 

“Philip Charming is well on his way to discovering some intel, sir, he think’s he may have found a suspect near Mansion Row, I--”

“Li Shang, I asked about _you_ , not my daughter’s hapless fiancé. Have you personally done any _shit_ around here or do you continue to simply test my patience, day in and day out?” 

The muscular man (could Stefan even call him a man? He looked no more than 18, damn him!) bowed his head, almost flippantly.  
“Trust me, it’ll be taken care of, Mr. Irons, sir.”

Stefan flipped. How dare this little prepubescent musclekid tell him what’s what, tell him that it’s going to be taken care of? Li Shang turned to back out of the door.

“Hey--HEY! Where the fuck do you think you’re going, kid? We’re not done, you need to--”

_Slam_. 

What the fuck was the world coming to, little boys like Shang were direspecting him left, right, and center? Frustrated to no end, Stefan took a paperweight from his desk and threw it against the door, where it shattered. _Thank God that it wasn’t one of Aurora’s little clay creations._

“And stay the FUCK out of my office, huh? Yeah? You hear me kid? You’re--I’m gonna fuckin--”

Stefan realized he was talking to a wall, and slumped against it, head pounding. His heart ached when he thought of his daughter. People thought of him as a monster (and he admitted that, to an extent in the corporational world, he was), but he wasn’t heartless. He just wanted things to be fucking easy. He was a simple man, in truth: all he was happy with was a beautiful woman, a nice house, good money, and to see Aurora pleased with him (which usually happened with some new toy or another). He hated how things had gone to shit, and it was all because of that bitch from a life he didn’t even feel like was his own anymore. 

_Maleficent_. He hated the name; hated how it clinged on to him like a needy shadow, weighed him down and wormed its way into his ear at 3 AM. Hated the way it burned his cheeks with shame like a fucking shy nun and hated the way it stood for everything that had gone wrong in his life. She had slipped through his fingers one time too many, and he had to kill her, because he knew that if he didn’t she was going to appear and make him suffer through the worst hell he had every known. 

Not quite different from the one he had given her, all those years ago, he supposed.

Call him a coward, but he wasn’t prepared to suffer through that. He wasn’t prepared to feel the pain in comeuppance for what he did to that woman back when she was a poor fucking girl and now it was going to come back and bite him in the ass, when she was a successful killer and he was slaving away at his desk, getting more and more manic each day.

_Fuck_. Things had to change. Perhaps Charming would be the answer. He dialed the boy’s cell, but the ringing in his ear sounded hollow and mocking, as if she were jeering at him from across the line. 

_Maleficent, Maleficent, Maleficent._


	13. À la Mode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry for being such a fakeout with the surprise chapter and then, like, nothing for three months. I'm such a bitch, but aren't we all? Anyways, after reading The Prisoner (which hands-down is one of the top Maleficent/Aurora pairing fics ever), I got a lil inspired by malora again and voila! Chapter updates should be pretty reg now since I have no tests to study for and no life. Heh.

Philip was in love.

_God, that felt good to say. Fuck it all_. He smiled to himself, shaking his tousled dark hair out of the way as he grabbed his double-shot from the nice Starbucks lady. Funny--now he realized what people in the movies he watched were all talking about, as cheesy as that felt to say. To walk around like you know something, feel something no one else does; like you carry not a burden on your shoulders but a warm cloak. Phil felt like a little boy again, recklessly happy and with far too much exuberance for his 23-year-old body. _So this is what it’s like to be in love_. True love? He didn’t know. But whatever it was, it felt good. 

And with...another man, no less. That felt even weirder to think about. It wasn’t that Phil felt embarrassed by it, it was just...unusual. He had never thought of himself as--well, not straight--, but it wasn’t until he went on his fourth (or was it fifth?) kind-of date with Diaval Corbeau that he realized he thought this guy was _hot shit_. And despite being pretty straight-laced growing up, he was oddly okay with it.

_Gods, Diaval_ \--he had only gone on so many outings with him, and yet he felt that the man was one of a kind. Granted, his hair could use a little bit of a wash and trim--that was the one fault Philip could find in him. Otherwise: he was wickedly intelligent, caring, and handsome to boot. A mysterious past made him only more alluring; despite Phil’s (now irrational, he realized) fears about Diaval being connected to the Kissing Case, he felt that given some time, Corbeau could use his razor-sharp wit to help Phil with the case. Now _that_ would be a date to remember. Hey hon, could you help me with the fingerprints on this lipstick-smeared body?

It came to him with a pang that he realized he had never been in love with Aurora at all.

God, it made him a little queasy to realize what a fool he’d been in the presence of that bastard Stefan. Aurora’s dad had essentially pressured him into dating, and finally getting engaged to, Aurora herself. He’s wanted to move up the ranks and be in the boss’s good books, and Stefan had sensed this, and used it to his advantage.

Aurora; she didn’t need to be caught in the crossfire. Sure, Philip had convinced himself at the start that he was falling for her. She was beautiful, after all. But he always felt grimy and uncouth around her, like he was living a lie that was slowly dirtying his soul. And he didn’t want to...nail her, exactly, since she was fucking sixteen! So Phil had distanced himself as much as he could, until he barely saw her and reassured himself he was doing the right thing. He had no doubt Aurora had her own life that she’d wanted to enjoy; surely she didn’t like being coerced into an engagement with a man who was more than 7 years her senior and who she barely knew. 

He felt bad for Aurora, and still he knew that somewhere, she was still alive. That was the worst part. He had been so distant--Gods, he didn’t even come home anymore--that he caused her to be kidnapped, the one thing that he was absolutely _not_ supposed to do. _Fuck._ There was a chance she was still alive, and Phil knew in his heart that as ambivalent as he felt romantically towards her, he owed it to Aurora to find her and bring her home. He hoped that she wasn’t being treated badly, although with a sick feeling he knew that what she would be coming home to wasn’t much better. Deadbeat dad? Check. Distant old weirdo fiancée who’s also gay? Check. Veritable prison for a home? Check, check, and check. 

He sighed, and called Diaval. _Help’s on the way soon, Aurora. For your sake and mine, I hope._

*******************

Aurora had slowly come to enjoy her training with Maleficent, however erratic and unusual it was. Her day would go as follows: wake up at some ungodly hour, usually 4:30 or 5, go for a darkness-filled training run with Maleficent, who would leave her in the dust time and time again; she would be waiting impatiently for Aurora at the end of the course, barely breaking a sweat, while Aurora would be huffing and puffing and generally dying.

Then, an hour or so of boxing (Aurora being too scared to punch Maleficent despite her saying “For fuck’s sake, Aurora, that’s the _point_ ”). Her arms were still fleshy little chicken wings, and nowhere near the assassin’s toned, muscular guns, but Aurora could feel her arms slowly adjusting to the level of strain she put on them each day. 

After that, Diaval would have breakfast laid out before he left (with one of his “boy toys”, as Maleficent so haughtily named them), which Aurora devoured nearly double the portions of. Alternating between training, eating, and walking around in a daze, Aurora would usually fall in a heap on her bed, asleep by 8pm. She never tried to initiate conversation with either Maleficent or Diaval--what was the point, the former being massively unapproachable and the latter being an absentee?

Diaval seemed to be out of the house a fair bit nowadays, which Aurora lamented. As...well...stunning and haughty and intelligent and crafty and scary as Maleficent was, she wasn’t great company. She left Aurora well enough alone when she wasn’t training her, or she made strained conversation that usually culminated in Aurora asking a stupid question to clear the silence and ended with Maleficent, obviously hurt, responding in a clipped tone and retreating to her room. Diaval was a bit more amicable, although now that he was never in the house, Aurora felt lonely and neglected. As much as she tried to keep the flailing voice alive in her head that said “Maleficent is a monster who’s keeping me here for her own sick hostage purposes”, she sighed and slowly began to realize it wasn’t true.

Now, she didn’t know what was true. Although she knew that the assassin didn’t actively hate her, she felt like she was overstaying her...well, whatever welcome she had in Maleficent and Diaval’s mansion. Aurora felt like she was in some sort of (possibly exercise-induced) haze: while she worried that Maleficent wanted her to do something, go _somewhere_ instead of hang around the house and mope like a lost ghoul, she had no idea where to go. A few days ago, she had realized that while her new life under the assassin’s tutelage was harder than anything she’d done before, and more emotionally demanding, it had never really begun until she came into contact with Maleficent. Her old life--God, what had her old life even been? It felt like some dream, a far-off place. She’s gone to grammar school, and when she’d turned 16 her father had abruptly moved them to the city and set her up with friends, a fiancée, and a prison for a home. She’d been like a doll, marionetting her way around life. How had she even managed? Meanwhile, she felt alive in the electric presence of the assassin, and a fatherly warmth from Diaval that she had never felt in the company of her own dear daddy. 

And another thing--one Aurora hadn’t wanted to admit to herself since the goddamn day she arrived. She had slowly come to the realization that the main reason--no, the sole reason--keeping her at the mansion was...Maleficent herself.

Aurora couldn’t help but be attracted to her; after all, the assassin was the most beautiful person she had ever seen in her life. The inadvertent femme fatale look Maleficent had going on about her didn’t help to quell the feeling. It wasn’t just looks, though: Aurora was drawn, despite herself, to Maleficent’s intelligent, mysterious, and almost melancholy exterior. Aurora knew that she fell into the typical “nice girl wants to heal and help the dark, brooding stranger” archetype, but she knew why it was an archetype in the first place--because she could see it happening all the time (especially if people like Maleficent were involved). She had a strong desire to uncover the assassin’s walls, figure out if there were a kind soul hiding underneath her hard, unforgiving exterior. Aurora almost couldn’t bear it that such a beautiful, powerful creature such as Maleficent should walk the earth so haunted. No matter what terrible things they may have done (such as resorting to kill people for money), Aurora firmly believed that everyone had some goodness in them. 

Aurora decided to walk a loop around the gardens to clear her head. Too much had she felt that her life was in some weird limbo between staying and going, fear and strength, attraction and worry and all the other jumbled emotions she was feeling. Nature, she found, usually helped her meditate. 

Today, however, Aurora found a rude awakening. After walking no more than 10 feet around a corner to the abandoned fountain, sitting on the rickety bench (in Aurora’s favourite spot, no less) was the assassin herself. She was sitting upright, with perfect posture and a demure expression, reading--strangely--and issue of Teen Vogue that appeared to be several years old. She was beautiful.

Seeing Maleficent in all her frightening glory, even expressionless, surprised Aurora, and she stopped, involuntarily letting out a little _oh_. Maleficent appeared to have seen her already, for she did not appear surprised or even look up. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the magazine and offered a small “Hello, Aurora.”

“I...um…” _God damnit_.   
“I can move over, if you wish to sit.” The assassin sounded amused, and Aurora felt that particular stinging sensation of not knowing if someone was making fun of you when they talked to you. She knew she must have looked like an ape, standing there with her jaw an inch off the floor, so she mustered a half-smile. “I...didn’t know you were a fan of Teen Vogue?”

Maleficent finally looked at her with those piercing green eyes, and Aurora felt like she was going to die of desire right there. The brunette looked at the cover, frowned, and shrugged. “Diaval smuggles all sorts of things in from his trips into little bodegas and things. I asked him to find something that’ll help me get a little more, ahem, _with the times_. I guess he didn’t realize I’m not a fourteen-year-old living in 2003.” She chuckled. “Are you a fan...yourself?”

Aurora couldn’t really believe Maleficent was actually making conversation, not awkwardly avoiding her and being so blunt like she had on so many of their non-workout conversations before. She found herself letting out a small chuckle, too. “Um...not really. I’m not super into haute couture.” 

“Really, for a moment there I could’ve mistaken you for an Armani model with that exquisite ratty bathrobe you have on there.” Maleficent raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk on her lips, and Aurora looked down at her ugly, borrowed, terrytowel robe that she had in fact borrowed from the brunette. _So she wants a little back-and-forth_ , she thought with glee. _Well, it takes two to tango._

“You’re straight off the runway, yourself, there, Maleficent.” Aurora smiled. “Blood-splattered blazer? _So_ this season. Your assassin-y boots that could crush a man’s skull--they were made for walking the runway.” She looked at Maleficent, who rolled her eyes. A beat passed--it seemed like an eternity. They stared at each other, smirking; finally, Aurora laughed, and to her surprise, Maleficent let out a genuine smile, the first Aurora had ever seen. She gasped.

“Is that a smile I see? My, what a day has come! Maleficent, the True Love’s Kisser, killer extraordinaire, has actually smiled.”

Maleficent scoffed and returned quickly to a scowl, but it was only a jesting frown. Aurora looked down, suddenly self-aware of how much exuberance she had shown. _Does Maleficent think I’m eager?_

Her thoughts were cut short when a very red-faced Diaval came sprinting into the garden. Maleficent tore her gaze off of Aurora, almost angrily. Aurora could imperceptibly make out a little huff as the assassin composed herself. Her features straightened, and she leveled her gaze at Diaval, who was huffing and puffing like he’d won a marathon. 

“How now, Diaval? Come to interrupt your little manfriend session to tell us something important, or would you rather…” She looked at him up and down, then frowned. “That we went for a run with you? I daresay Aurora’s done for today.” She rolled her eyes. Aurora choked a little. _The gall of that woman, and yet she seems so confident saying it._ Diaval, however, seemed unfazed. He still had a worried look in his eyes.

“No time for your scathing comments, Mal. I...I have intel. We’re being tracked. We need to move out--relocate. _Now._ ”


	14. True Love's Hit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! So I was on fire and wrote this chapter over the course of like two days to make up for my erratic nonposting. yo. 
> 
> Trigger warning: very, very strong language. Also some homophobia. Except the homophobes get what's coming to them big time. Bloody big time.

Diaval could not remember a time when he had felt more pain in his life.

Sitting in the street--it was almost comical how whimpery he looked, blood oozing out of every one of his orifices while he shivered and the rain pounded down, soaking his red-stained shirt. He looked up at his unnamed attacker (God, they looked like shadows flitting in and out of the dark), and feebly raised a hand to stop blows raining down on him, which was futile. He felt a tooth knock loose as a boot connected with his face. _Why this? Why me--I didn't do anything except happen to love whom I happen to love, and I get a mouthful of blood,_ he thought bitterly.

He had been at the pub--Atlantis, it was a sketchy place but full of self-named freaks like himself--enjoying a drink with a guy. How funny it was that although the event was the one in his life that Diaval thought about the most, he couldn't even remember the lad's name. He was attractive though; blond shaggy hair like a surfer and a crooked smile, that much Diaval could remember. They hadn't even looked like a couple, really, just two guy friends enjoying a few beers together. And strangely enough: they had talked about true love, just as he had done with Phil a few dates ago. Diaval had hoped it wasn't a sense of foreboding that came over him, but rather a sense of pleasure.

"Do you believe in true love?" The boy had asked.

"Of course," he answered back, cocky and confident as only a youth could be. He had laughed. "We all live in this shitty merry-go-round of a world where violence and death take precedence over love and happiness. I need something to latch onto in my life--if true love weren't real, then what would be the point of even living?"

The guy had cocked his head, smiling slightly at Diaval. And then--a gesture so small, it was almost imperceptible. The blond had brushed his hand, laying it lightly to rest on Diaval's leg. It was meant to be an action of love, warmth, and not lust; yet Diaval's heart fluttered just the same.

They had talked for what seemed like hours; the bar had emptied out and although they didn't go home together ("I'll give you my number, man, but tonight isn't the night") Diaval had left feeling like his head, heart, and entire body were aflame. As he walked out the back door, a huge grin on his face, he passed one group of men sitting sulkily at a table, smoking. As he caught the eye of the tallest bearded one, a jolt of fear went through him, but the man nodded at him and Diaval nodded back. 

It wasn't until he was out in the alley that he felt rough hands on his shoulder, spinning him around. The men from the table were there with him, in the dark midnight air, glowering. There seemed to be about four--Diaval could only see that many in the wan light of the lamp by the bar's back door--but he doubted they were friendly, and he couldn't even take one. _Okay, man, it's time to talk yourself out of this mess. Fuck these losers,_ he told himself with wavering confidence. It had begun to rain.

"Couldn't help but notice you and your little friend having a fun time there," A short, nearly-bald thug said. 

"Whoa! Yeah, that's all he is, just a friend," Diaval cried, hoping his voice didn't come off too shaky. "What the fuck, did you think we were dating? What, two friends can't have a beer together?"

"He put his hand on your thigh, you motherfucker." This one was wiry and had raven-black hair, just like Diaval. The similarities ended there, though; he had dark black eyes and a scar running down his chin. He looked like he'd just drunk seven consecutive Red Bulls. "I know a pillow-biter when I see one!"

The tall, dark, and bearded one that Diaval recognized stepped forward, and he was by far the most frightening. There was something in his eyes that Diaval found both dark and piercing, and he was terrified. 

"Unfortunately, this bar is my territory," he said smoothly. "Normally I'd let you go with a warning, but I just can't have my area riddled with impurities...like a twink such as yourself." Diaval gulped, while the man raised his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth in a twisted smile. "Sic him, boys."

Like a pack of feral dogs, they were on him, punching, kicking befoer he had time to take a breath. Time slowed to a crawl, and all Diaval could feel was pain. He was on the ground almost immediately, and he felt a slickness cover him that he only knew could be blood.

Tall and Dark halted his reign of terror to sneer down at Diaval. He raised his hand to stop his henchmen from attacking him, and Diaval felt a moment's respite--a moment of pure, painless bliss. He looked out of his swollen eyelids up at the man. He tried to talk but could only cough, spitting out blood like saliva. 

"Have you had enough, you faggot?"

And that was his one mistake.

Suddenly, a sound around them enveloped like a mist, all dulcet tones and creamy femininity. It was clearly a woman's voice, although Diaval couldn't tell where she was. She sounded like an angel. 

"Oh come now, boys, that wasn't very nice."

A flash of lightning, now, or was that her? In any case, an even darker shadow flitted out, quick as a viper, and two of the men screamed in agony and fell to the ground. Diaval, somewhat shocked, could physically not move, so all he did was watch calmly as their life bled out of their stomachs slowly. The third one fell with a scream so sharp it hurt Diaval's ear: in fact, the man's own ears were pierced through with some sort of long steel spike, in one ear and out the other. The tall bearded man looked wildly around, his harsh demeanor gone, and he started backing away toward the wall, where the lamp framed his sweat-slicked face.

"Who..who are you?!" He cried, fearfully. "I don't know who you are or what you want, but--"

A laugh. It was like if death came in the from of sweet caramel. "Of course, I'd not expect you to. However, your partner, Mr. Pan knows me quite well. In fact, he and I are on a first-name basis, something I was told was only reserved for his clients closest to him."

Tall beard gasped. "Not...Peter? He's doing this?"

The shadow stepped forward, and Diaval could make out an outline of a tall, lithe human. She shrugged. "Hey, I don't form allegiances, buddy. I simply work for money--and, my friend, your boss pays me quite well."

The man gulped. "Pays you to do what, exactly?"

"Uh uh uh, eager boy. You don't get to know what I do to you--you'll be too dead to notice. Plain and simple, it appears Peter has grown both jealous of your quick ascension in his company and weary of your pussyboy attitude. So, it appears that you will be meeting your maker sooner than expected."

"You--you can't do this!"

"And that's where you're wrong. See you in Hell, friend."

And into the light stepped the most beautiful woman Diaval had ever seen. Her hair was a deep chocolate, and her eyes were glittering and a dark, stormy green. She had on black cargo pants and a tight black tanktop, and several badass accoutrements and weapons adorning her arms and legs that Diaval couldn't even name. The scariest, or perhaps to some most alluring part of her, was that her lips were plump, full, and a shocking deep crimson. 

As quickly as she had killed the other men, the woman shot forward with some sort of dagger and thrust it in the man's stomach, dragging it slowly upward as if performing seppuku. Putting one hand over his mouth to block out the screams, with the other she pulled a-- _was that lipstick?_ \--tube out of her pocket, reapplying it to her lips vigourously. As the light went out of the man's eyes and he sank to the ground, she caught him by the neck and pulled him upward, kissing him softly on the lips before letting his body drop to the soaking wet pavement. She then made a mock-gagging noise and looked at Diaval raising her eyebrow.

"That was a disgusting one, I'll have to admit, but hey--it's all part of the image, right?" She crouched down to Diaval. "Do I need to call an ambulance?"

Too dumbstruck to care, and way past the point of pain to the point of painlessness, he found his voice. "You...you killed them," he said, and spat a blood clot out.

"Correct."

Another thing dawned on him: this he had read in the papers and heard on the local news. He recognized the kiss before. "You're...the True Love's Kisser."

The assassin raised her eyebrow, and she bowed somewhat mockingly. "You got me."

"You saved me."

"That I did," she replied coolly. "Although it wasn't my original goal, no offense. I was paid to kill Humphries and anyone who might be in his company and it just so happens I'm terribly against homophobia, so I decided to make their deaths a little bit more...memorable for them. You were just the collateral in all this."

"Th--thank you."

"All part of being a crime-causing vigilante. Now, ambulance or no? You _do_ know I'll have to leave you."

Diaval nodded dumbly. She sighed softly and pulled out a gun, _Sherlock_ -style, and shot it several times into the air. Diaval couldn't lift his hands to put them over his ears, and they throbbed. "The police will have to do, as I have no cellphone," the True Love's Kisser said ambivalently. "Farewell, stranger. Until we meet again." She turned to go, fading into the darkness, but somehow Diaval found the last little bit of strength in him to feebly raise his hand up; it stretched towards the assasin. 

"Wait." it was soft, and Diaval hoped she'd heard it. There was no response, but somehow he knew that she was still there, waiting in the darkness. 

"Take me with you--I know it sounds stupid," Diaval blubbered, blood coursing down his chin like baby drool. "But I'm good...you could--use me, for something useful. I'm good with computers, I know my way around hacking, GPS, forensics, you name it...I did a stint down at the Smithe for five years. You could have a veritable partner-in-crime."

"And why should I? I've just met you, after all, and you're so broken you're no more than a liability--at least for the time being."

Something occured to him; Diaval knew he could read into other peoples' lives and read more than meets the eye. "Because I'm living a shitty life, and I have nowhere else to go, and you're living a shitty life too. You need a companion--you're lonely."

Another laugh, but it wasn't happy anymore. It had an edge. "What makes you think I'm lonely?"

"Everyone gets lonely sometimes," Diaval found himself saying. "And seeing as how you make a life out of ending other peoples', I'm judging you don't live with anyone. Plus, you look haunted by something. I can see it in your eyes."

The voice was quiet. Diaval continued, spurred on by her relative reluctance to kill him. Somewhere, deep down, he found humour within himself. "Let father Diaval hear all your sins, beautiful lady. Tell me everything, and I'll give you a backrub. You look like you could use it."

No laugh, as he had expected. However, the assassin stepped forward. "You're funny, raven-hair. I like you enough to not want to kill you immediately. You can stay--if you prove to be useful, like you say you are. In any case, though, I better fix you up so you can work with me; I do _not_ want a dead body rotting in my house."

She squatted down again, the back of her long ponytail tickling his bloodstained face. If he weren't already gay, Diaval was sure he would've fallen for her. She scooped his wiry body into her (surprisingly muscular!) arms like a baby and swung him over her shoulder into a fireman's carry. As he felt lights dancing in front of his eyes, a surge of exhilaration went though him. _My life is finally beginning. Albeit from a totally weird starting point._

Diaval blacked out from the pain not ten seconds later.

 

**************

As much as Diaval would’ve liked to tell Maleficent that she was a big fat bully and to bugger off, there were many things stopping him. First: she had a death grip around his neck with one hand and was lifting him up (how the fuck could a human have that much strength?!) against the wall. Second, she was making a lot of absolutely terrifying hissing noises at his throat, like a feral cat or a vampire. Third, she was in such a fury Diaval himself wasn’t sure if she had the Devil himself hiding behind her flashing green eyes. He didn’t really want to get himself killed.

When he had told Aurora and Mal that they were being tracked a mere 5 minutes ago, he supposed he could have told them a bit earlier. Well, a lot earlier. To be fair, as soon as he talked to Philip and realized that he was working for the kissing case, he should’ve stayed far away.

When Philip had explained on the second date that his boss was none other than Stefan fucking Irons, the man who was the source of this entire disaster and the one person who Mal, his best friend (if he could even call her that, she hated friendship) hated most--Diaval should’ve said _adios_. 

When Philip had explained on the third date that his fiancée was none other than _Aurora herself_ , the very girl he and Maleficent were sheltering, Diaval should've said _no thank you_.

And on the fourth date, when Philip first uttered the words "I'm ready to get serious", Diaval should've shaken his head and cried _hasta la vista, baby_.

He did none of those things. What he did instead was continue to live his lying, cheating double life and casually mentioned things that were what normal couples talked about--their favourite cocktails, why their favourite Game of Thrones character died, which in-laws were to be avoided at all costs. Not (definitely not!) what emotional problem Maleficent had run into now, or who she had just killed. Diaval was fine with it. Being with Phil made him feel like he was actually somebody, not just a servant whose only job was to act as a physical and mental punching bag for the most dangerous assassin in the entire fucking country.

"Tell me everything, Diaval, you little shit," Maleficent growled. "I can tell when you're lying, and you've been playing too dangerous a game for for too long. I shouldn't have let it go on like I did."

The expression on Maleficent's face was enough to scare any normal man shitless, but Diaval had spent far too long in the assassin's close company to be intimidated much. He furrowed his brow and motioned for her to set him down. Surprisingly, she did, and waited indignantly for a response. Diaval crossed his arms, defiance on his hawkish features.

"Oh yeah, so you're the boss now, of who I can and can't love, huh?" He cried. "Your job is to go out and do all the fun stuff like killing people while Diaval here has to spend all his time wasting away inside on the supercomputer doing deeds for you. But no, Diaval has one chance at happiness, and you just _can't_ let that happen, can you? No one can have any sort of control over their own lives, not while you're in charge!"

"How long did you really know we were in danger, and why the fuck didn't you tell me sooner? And why now, all of a sudden--what, you've finally decided to take a break from your _twoo wuv_ to tell us that we might be _fucking killed in the next week or so_?!"

"How did you even know? I might have gotten some new intel, that's all," he huffed.

"Diaval, you sisterfucker. Any monkey could have figured out this stupid jigsaw puzzle--it doesn't add up. You go from totally obedient, and telling me everything, and generally being _competent_ ; then all of a sudden you start dating this guy and not only are you gone for days at a time like lovesick fucking Romeo, but you suddenly decide to reveal that we could have our door fucking busted down at any moment!"

"That isn't even a legitimate argument, and you know it, Mal," Diaval protested, although he knew that he was fighting a losing battle. Maleficent would not let go of an opinion, and it took the Devil himself to even listen to another's. "We could have had our door busted down since, like, when we moved in!"

"Diaval, you're terrible at evading my questions. Answer them now, or else."

He almost laughed. "Or else?"

The assassin growled, which brought him back to his senses. Although Maleficent could be comically villainous sometimes, Diaval often forgot that she could get in her moods and be hard to control. He hoped that Mal wouldn't _actually_ hurt him, she seemed to be more volatile than ever, and he didn't want to press his luck too much.

"Alright! Alright," he took a deep breath. "Chillax, Mal. You want the truth? Okay. Here's the truth, the complete and utter and nothing but the whole truth. I...I'm dating Philip Charming." He halted his breath, anticipating a slap or a scathing remark or nothing. Maleficent just narrowed her eyes.

"Am I supposed to recognize that name?"

"He..." Here Diaval braced himself for an explosion of emotions, or worse; a place devoid of them, like Mal had been when he'd first met her. "He was--is--Aurora's finacé. The one who works...for Stefan."

The assassin's eyes darkened. "And how long, exactly, have you been going out with Charming?"

Under different circumstances, Diaval would have thought of a casual retort to shoot back at her, but the weird mixture of intimidation and fatigue stopped him. He was too tired for this--he just wanted the final truth out, and he didn't care what it cost him. _For God's sake._ "We were, uh...going on our sixth date tomorrow." He noticed a flash in Mal's eye and quickly blurted, "Are you fucking kidding me? I blew him off, of course! What, do you honestly think I'm that stupid?"

Mal just rolled her eyes, as if to say, _obviously._ "And it's from him that you found out they're increasing security to our sector of town?" 

_good,_ Diaval thought. _at least she's calmed down enough to retain some of her normal sardonic self._ "We met earlier today, at a coffee shop. Since his boss is, well, Ste--Your enemy, he's told me a lot of what comes from him. He told me that since Stefan is so completely done with the incompetence of other FBI and police officers, he decided to give Phil a go at being his left-hand man, so he gets a lot of information directly from him." As he said this, with a sickening realization his stomach dropped. 

"You know what you must do, then?" _So Maleficent knows this too, then._

Diaval knew full well what choice he had in front of him. Well, it wasn't _reeeeally_ a choice, seeing as if he picked wrong then he would be cast aside like a piece of bloody cloth the assassin used to wipe her murderess hands. He could do this: the first choice was to betray his new date, Phil, and continue to relay all the information he was given concerning the assassin to Mal and Aurora. Eventually, he would cave under pressure of living such a lie, and have to break up with Charming, ruining his chance at true love. He would probably be too bitter to then stay with Mal, so he would strike out on his own, and hopefully find true love again. He would miss not only his assassin, but the new protégée whom he had come to kind of adore. 

The second option, while what his impetuous heart told him to do, made him want to throw up. He could agree with Mal, pretend to be going along with her plan, and then go on the sixth date with Phil and tell him everything. About his connection to the True Love's Kisser, where her location was, where her hostage was. Maleficent would likely be caught off guard. She would die. Aurora? Diaval didn't know, and even now this part of the plan was shaky: although Diaval wanted Phil all to himself, the good guy would likely have to return to his old life of being caught in an arranged marriage by his tyrannical boss. Phil would be crushed, Aurora would hate him forever (if she wasn't too mentally fucked-up to function), and Mal, as difficult as she could be, would be figuratively rotting away in one of Stefan's torture cells or literally rotting in a garbage bag outside city limits. The thought alone made him sick; as well, no one was sure to have a happy ending, so that option was out.

_If only there were a third choice: Phil and I could escape from this godforsaken city, away from death, from being hunted, from everything. Mal and Aurora could live together in their twisted intimidation-relationship or whatever the fuck's going on there...but, of course. Things like that only happen in fairy tales. Not in real life, certainly not in these situations._

He was silent for a few minutes, Maleficent intently watching him like a tigress. Yes, he knew what he had to do, and he didn't like it, but that was the way life was. You didn't complain, or you did and got yourself killed. Diaval had spent his life wanting other people to get along, wanting to keep fighting on the back burner--what about _him?_ What about his happiness, wasn't that worth anything? He was sick and tired.

"I'll do it," he sighed, in a voice that at once conveyed hundreds of emotions, not least desperation, lovesickness, anger, hurt, among others. Maleficent nodded. "I'm not done!" Diaval snapped. "I said, I'll do it. I'll tell everything I hear from Phil to you. Not because I want to--oh no, Mal, no. Plain and simple, because I owe you. That's it. And do you know," He added, his voice becoming more seething with fury every second, "Do you know why I chose to follow this path? Do you know why I'm staying loyal to this fucked-up family?"

"Enlighten me." Maleficent said. Her voice was unnaturally quiet, and soft. Diaval continued.

"Because of _Aurora._ Poor girl--she had no discernible part in this, she doesn't deserve this shit. I'm doing this so she can have a life of her own, away from her tyrannical father, a life where she doesn't feel captive--I'm giving her what you never gave me to experience, you bitch!"

Maleficent made no response. Diaval was somewhat surprised she didn't try to kill him. The fire in her eyes was still there, although it had dulled somewhat to a slow burn. "I suppose, then, once all of this blows over, you wish to leave us? I can't imagine you would harbour any love for me or the house." 

"Yes, I _suppose_ so," he huffed. "And _us?_ What's with you referring to Aurora like she's your possession, Mal? Or wait--don't you do that with everything you think you can control?" He knew he was starting a war he shouldn't have--but he couldn't help it. Maleficent needed a taste of her own medicine.

Or perhaps not. The assassin, speedy as ever, was quick to deliver a hard closed-fist hit to his cheek, which sent him recoiling. The action, in a way, cleared his senses of rage: of _course_ Maleficent would resort to childish violence if she didn't get her way. "Jesus Chirst, Mal, you don't have to hit me!"

"I do if you continue to be an ass." _Sulky._

Diaval's mouth quirked up in a fucked-up smile. They were like an old married couple, bickering like this. However, Maleficent was solemn, and there was a worriedness on her face that Diaval had never seen before, and it made him ponder--if someone so self-assured such as her was wavering, then who would be a lifeboat in this turbulent sea of an existence?

"She can't know." Mal was talking about Aurora, that much Diaval knew. It was strange to see the once-bitter woman who hated everyone and everything become so...almost _motherly_ towards the girl. However, from his own experiences with Aurora, it was clear she held some sort of calming power over people with her innate cheerfulness. Still, Mal had grown quite an attachment to her, as stubbornly as she tried to refute the statement.

"God, Mal, you really think I'm in the position to be saying to her, 'oh hey, Rora, just wanted to let you know not only have I been cavorting with your fiancée who's working under the man that's trying to bring you home but I also plan on _screwing him in a few weeks._ He's incredibly hot. Anyways, see you after our ninth date!'"

Maleficent furrowed her brow. "I mean it, Diaval, no time for jokes. If anything were to get out--"

"Why do you care so much, Mal? Is it because you're afraid she'll get emotionally fucked-up even more or something?" Diaval once again felt himself delve into deeper territory, but something was up with Maleficent, and he needed to uncover what. "Or...is it because that if I tell her--there's a chance that she'll want to leave with Phil, go back to her old life, without you?"

Maleficent glowered at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It is, isn't it?" he pressed. "You're afraid the one thing in your life is constant is going to leave you, and you'll be alone once again." 

"That's not it, you motherfucker! Stop digging into my personal life like it's your duty to find every little secret about me that you can. It's like you and talking about true love with every stupid little boy toy that you come across."

 _True Love_. Suddenly, something dawned on Diaval; a sickening but giddy realization that he never thought he would realize in all the years that the world turned round. 

He knew why Maleficent was acting stranger than normal. He knew why she had volunteered to give the dying Aurora her blood. He knew why she had smacked him silly, instead of arguing or denying the truth. He knew all of these things, and more.

"Mal," he began softly, so as not to provoke her even further into emotional oblivion. She looked up sharply.

"You love her, don't you?"


	15. Of comings and goings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! sorry for the looooooooong hiatus. dunno if anyone still reads this but I'm gonna power through.
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING for an abusive relationship and violence in general (although this fic is kind of violent in an of itself, so you kind of walked right into that one)
> 
> anyways.  
> enjoy.

Love? No. Of course it couldn’t be. Maleficent scoffed at such an idea. What was buried deeper underneath, what was hiding in her underlying emotions, was a different story. But what Maleficent thought of loving Aurora? _Pshh. What a fucking idea._

Lust, now, that was something she wasn’t going to go into. The girl was fucking sixteen ( _seventeen now!_ ), far too underage, and although she was quite possibly the most beautiful girl the assassin had ever seen, it simply couldn’t happen. However, that didn’t stop Maleficent from finding herself looking at Aurora when she knew she shouldn’t, and her once-frozen heart had thawed a little bit every time when Aurora smiled. Maleficent lusted after her with such a ferocity that it surprised even her, but that was different than love.

And plus, the girl was already terrified of her, so that didn’t help. Not to mention that knowing the world’s most dangerous assassin wanted to kiss her (and not in the death-y way she usually did to folks) would put such a heavy weight on her that she’d become even more emotionally fucked-up than before. Maleficent had a hunch that Aurora was ever so slightly repulsed by her, and so she stayed her distance. Any desire, not least the unrequited kind, Maleficent had no time for. It simply couldn’t happen--

“I _knew_ it!” 

She was rudely interrupted by Diaval lightly slapping her in the face to get her back in the real world. He had an impish grin on his face, and she growled and kneed him in the legs, which brought him down but certainly did not wipe the smile off his face. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spat. “The girl is seventeen. A child.”

“A child that’s brought you to your senses, anyone can see that. Oh, Mal, if you only knew what love has in store for you...”

“A child, Diaval! A..” she racked her brain for insults to Aurora and unfortunately found few. “an emotionally unstable, weak, princessy... _child_ ,” she finished. “No more. Now, how about a nice cold glass of _shut the fuck up_?”

Diaval looked at her. “You love the girl.”

“You’re a fucking dimwit.”

“You love her, Mal. Don’t push her away! What good is that going to do to anyone?”

“Fuck you.”

He suddenly got up and gripped her wrists tightly. Pathetic, Maleficent thought, and had them twisted behind his back in a matter of seconds. Strangely, however, he didn’t try to resist. His features softened. “I know you love her because you aren’t denying it. And if it weren’t true, you’d have me in a chokehold or black-and-blue for my insolence. But you’re not doing any of that--you want to hear what I have to say. Because I know about love.”

She glowered at him but let him go. He put his hands up to her face, causing Maleficent to flinch, but she made no move to attack him. 

“I know about love,” he continued. “And I can fully say, Mal, that you’re not a monster for having it. You’re not alone in loving someone you think won’t love you back.”

She laughed. It was a cold, emotionless sound. “I don’t love her, Diaval. Or has being a total puppydog in relationships clouded your judgement?”

“Goddammit, Mal! Can’t you listen to yourself for just one fucking moment?” He cried. “I don’t care! You don’t have to prove yourself to me, Mal. Who are you kidding? You’re lying to everyone, but most importantly yourself. Why are you denying yourself the basic pleasures of human beings? You’re not a monster for loving someone!”

Suddenly, she looked up. There was a long pause. “She can’t know.”

Diaval turned around and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, sister, that’s all you had to tell me, just a hint!”

“ _Diaval_. She can’t know about any of this.”

He smiled; slowly, gently. “Of course not. Who do you think I am?”

When he noticed her brow was still furrowed, he laced his hands through hers. The assassin growled again, but it was less threatening than before. “You know, you’re the only one who can do that to me without getting pulverized, you know that, little man?”

Diaval winked. “Except maybe the girl, give it a little bit of time.”

He earned a swift kick to the groin from the assassin for that. 

**********

The woman with long brown hair--a girl, really--shivered in the cold involuntarily. She had somewhat gotten used to the cold since her new apartment was fucking freezing, although going actually out at night in the open still took some time getting used to. It was almost as though she could feel her scars tightening against the frigid temperature, and they stung like no other, making her grit her teeth every time a gust of wind passed by. 

_Where the hell is Regina_?

The girl had spent nearly a year and a half staying as far away from the university as possible, since not only had it brought painful (literally) memories, but she had begun to get physically sick at the mere mention of the name, not to mention filled with a somehow unquenchable rage. 

She had left the premises as quickly as she could after that night--an angel fleeing the seemingly perfect gates of heaven. _Fuck you, Stef. I want to skin you alive, strip all your dignity from you, kill you...you have no idea what’s in store for you._

Finding an apartment that was cheap enough had been the easy part; she had stumbled upon a battered, exposed-brick shanty that was blazing in the summer and freakishly cold in the winter, and paid her landlord in cash, on the spot. It was the perfect place to go if you didn’t want to be found.

The hard part, well, was the isolation. Not that Maleficent had minded; after all, she was “selectively social” and hated spending time with anyone other than...Regina, maybe. And she had wanted to spend the next few years as far away from those disgusting peasants she called classmates as possible. But still, the only downside to being alone was that there was too much time to think. Think about life, death, and all the shitshow that was to come between…

Frankly, Maleficent had had enough. Every time she was alone at night, wrapped up in countless blankets on her mattress to keep the chill out, she felt like she was being held hostage by her own mind.

She made a snap decision to call her roommate, the one person she knew who was (nearly) as sarcastic as she was. Secret, only for a couple of hours or so, a few short moments of human contact so Maleficent would know she wasn’t alone. It had to be planned quickly--Regina could be volatile, and who was to say she wouldn’t get bored and bring a friend along?

Except now, in the freezing February air, all Maleficent could think about was whether Regina would invite her into her warm dorm room, stat. She checked her watch. 3:04 AM, it was past two hours their meeting time, and she wondered whether Regina had blown her off. _She’s not that kind of person, though…_

Suddenly, as if on cue, Maleficent heard a scuffle across the green, in the doorway of a dorm apartment. She craned her neck to get a good look--two people appeared to be threatening each other. Or rather, one person was doing the threatening and the other person was being the threatenee. 

She lithely ran the long way, under dark doorways so to avoid being seen, and crept closer. Upon further inspection, she noticed it was a young couple who appeared to be having a hushed, angry conversation in the snowy air. Maleficent felt something in her stomach drop, and the air seemed to get stuffy; somehow her fingers found the pocketknife she kept in her jeans pocket and clicked it open: _Shhhink._

When she got around the side of the doorway, she realized her trepidation--Regina! She was there...arguing with... _Eric? What the fuck_?

 _Were they dating? He was such an asshole_...Maleficent cupped her ear to get a bit of the conversation.

“Babe, please don’t...I just wanted to meet…” That had to be Regina. No one else Mal knew could sound so effortlessly sultry.

“Who, Regina?! Who the fuck did you want to meet at 3 am? Because I swear to god, if it was another guy, I’ll beat you into--”

“Jesus! No, Eric, it wasn’t, she’s…complicated. She only could meet at this time. Please go back inside, I’ll explain everything later--”

Maleficent’s blood came to a low boil. _How dare he speak to her that way? How dare she let him treat her like dirt?_ It reminded her of a horrific event that occurred in her life not a full year ago…

“Please, Eric, just leave, I can’t--”

Slap. The sound that made Maleficent freeze in her tracks. Did he just hit her?

“You bitch! Don’t talk to me like that!”

“Oh my god! You motherfucker! You just hit me!”

“Be quiet!” _Thud._

Maleficent wanted to throw up in her mouth, for that was the sound of a body being shoved against a wall. She could hear Regina gasping, and her anger went from a rolling boil to a raging bull. She began to shake furiously and her knife almost slipped out of her grip, but she caught it just in case. Her mind went blind, save for the sole goal of killing that scumbag...she could hear someone screaming, although she didn’t know if it was her or Regina.

All she knew, later, was that there was blood. A lot of blood. Maleficent’s hands, strangely, weren’t shaking. They were steely. No--it was Regina who had lost her composure.

“Mal! I...You...killed him. You fucking killed him. He’s dead, Mal. _What..the...fuck?”_

“It’s good to see you too, Regina.” She felt all her emotion leave her, and shuddered. This wasn’t a good feeling. 

“Ahhh! What am I gonna do...I...the police...Mal, what have you _done_?”

Maleficent turned to her only friend. “I couldn’t stand it. You wanted it--wanted him dead,” she murmured in a low voice. “I couldn’t stand the way he was treating you--like shit. He deserved it.”

“I don’t know how you’re still composed.” Tears were running down Regina’s face. “But...I can’t entirely say I didn’t want him gone. But for real? For fucks’ sake, Mal, you’re going to jail. Oh shit, I’m probably going to be questioned as a witness--Mal, I can’t have this on my record, I fucking can’t…”

“My life is gone, Regina. You knew that when I disappeared all those nights ago..after…”

Regina took a sharp breath inwards. “Yes, yes. God, I know, Mal. What he did to you--you never woke up, even when I screamed a thousand bloody deaths for you when I saw your back, and you still were beautiful even in your tortured anguish. But Maleficent: life doesn’t have to be over for you. You could move away, start over…”

“I would never. Are you serious? You can never move away from a past like that. No, I have to embrace it, somehow. I...I’m not the same, Regina,” Mal looked down at her skinny arms, covered in blood. She wondered if it would ever come off. “I’m angry, Regina.”

“Well, damn fucking right! You should be angry, Mal, I’m not saying to fucking forgive that--”

“No, Regina. Look at me. I...something’s not right. I was contemplating it, when I was living in that apartment, but now, I fully realize it. I have a... _taste for blood_. Like I can’t get it out of my freaking skull how bad I want to kill Stefan. And not just him! I...despise all of his cronies. Eric, Aladdin, Charles...they all deserve to get a knife in their eyes.”

“Jesus, Mal.”

Maleficent suddenly looked up at her former roommate, not fearful anymore. Instead, in her eyes gleamed a cool, confident glower, which scared the hell out of Regina. 

“Regina...it was nice knowing you, friend. I’m sticking in the city, but don’t try to find me. I’m...bad. You don’t want to know what my plans are. If you don’t want blood on your hands, forget I was ever here for the rest of your life.

“You’ll hear about me on the news, or rather you’ll know. Regina...I’m going to kill Stefan. It won’t be know, but...it will happen. You’ll want to move as far away from here. Regina...goodbye.”

“Mal, what the fuck are you talking about--are you just leaving me here?! What the fuck will I say to the police?” Regina was bewildered, tears streaming down her face.

“I’ll call them in ten minutes from a payphone. When they come, cradle Eric’s body--you won’t have the weapon, I will. They’ll be off your scent immediately. Trust me, Regina. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet for longer. I’ll probably never see you again.”

“Mal…”

Without another word, the brunette, smiling only slightly in a maniacal way, leaned forward and kissed her friend on the cheek. A parting gift. 

As the frost approached, the burgeoning young assassin, her first kill still warm in the moonlight, slipped away, leaving Regina alone.

******

When Maleficent wandered back out into the gardens, in a somewhat lightened state of mind but still very much anguished inside, the sun had begun to set. It cast a golden halo all throughout the gardens, seemingly setting them alight with yellow fire. 

As expected, Aurora wasn’t on the bench still. The assassin had expected as much, although she felt a twinge of-- _was it disappointment?_ \--at not seeing the little gold glow of hair buried deep into the Teen Vogue she had left.

Maleficent stood there for a moment, unblinking, trying to clear her mind. 

_Am I truly not a monster for feeling attracted to such an ethereal young nymph? Any old scoundrel of a man would have done the same, fallen for her inadvertent charms._

She suddenly felt herself likening to Humbert Humbert, the tortured protagonist of Lolita. 

_At least she doesn’t ignore his advances_. She wanted to throw up. Turning to go, Maleficent noticed that the magazine was overturned on the bench, untouched by Aurora. Perhaps she had left soon after Maleficent herself was indisposed?

Grimacing at her sudden unwillingness to be aloof, she found herself drawn to Aurora’s room. 

_It’s just to check if she’s alright_ , the brunette told herself angrily. _Fuck you and your weakness._

When she got up to the house, she climbed the stairs slowly, carefully, pensively thinking about her decisions of late. Sure, she was still physically in top shape; her mental prowess, however, had slipped quite a bit. No more was she the stone-cold, steely-faced statue she had felt that she had once been. What was it about having a small, emotionally dependent girl hanging around the house that was destroying her leather exterior?

As she approached Aurora’s room, the door was closed, and she could hear a faint sound. A murmuring, perhaps? Maleficent took a deep inhale and pushed the door open. Again she was pushing past personal boundaries that Aurora was sure to hate her for, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. 

When she saw Aurora sleeping soundly, mewling like a little kitten in her dreamlike state, Maleficent was of another mind entirely. 

The girl looked like an angel! Surely such a more pure sight couldn’t have been found. The assassin felt terribly like she was intruding on the scene of something precious, such as a baby being born. It all felt quite odd, and Maleficent had a weird taste in her mouth. Strangely, though, she couldn’t look away as the blonde’s hair splayed around her like a halo; as her plum-swollen lips parted slowly as she breathed in, out; as her hands were clasped tightly around her chest as if in prayer. 

However, her brow was furrowed in worry. Maleficent wasn’t sure if she was going crazy or if the girl actually seemed to be shaking? In any case, even as the sight made Maleficent’s stomach sink, she knew she couldn’t reach out to comfort the girl--it would simply wake her.

The metallic taste in her mouth returned. Maleficent turned her head away, reluctantly, and closed the door.


	16. Of Meg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG HIATUS AHHHH I'M SORRY

As Aurora opened her eyes, she saw that the field was wide open, unforgiving. The sky above was white and bloodless; normally Aurora loved weather like that, but today it just chilled her spine. 

Crows circled overhead, slowly, gliding as only crows would (rather lazily). What were they doing here? Aurora found herself lying on a blanket, protected from the scratchy grasses that lay around her. 

She suddenly looked beside her. Maleficent, long and languid as always, the devil, the she-devil herself. Dressed in all black, although was there ever a time when she wasn’t? Lips as pouted as if they had been stung by a bee. A shadow, drawing darkness towards her even in daytime. Her hair was splayed out in a fan around her, a halo, though there was nothing holy about it. A trickle of blood lay streaming on her lips, vampiric. She lay down on the ground, and her green eyes were wide open and smoky. They were the most terrifying things Aurora had still ever seen, and she had never gotten used to them.

And now they were staring right at her. Aurora felt her blood run cold.

“Aurora. What a curious name. For a curious girl, I suppose,” the assassin tilted her head and smirked. “You are a human girl, yes? Not a faerie, an ethereal creature? Although I suppose it doesn’t matter…” Lick. The smatter of blood around Maleficent’s lips was gone. Aurora felt a hunger gnawing at her, intertwined with a paralyzing fear. 

“Um...I’m human. You...know that, right?” It felt as though her lips wouldn’t move, were glued together. 

Maleficent laughed; one sound, then a motion: she pulled Aurora on top of her in one swift grab, strong and vicious. In an instant, she was kissing Aurora’s neck--or was it biting?--the blonde could hardly react; her viscerals were filled with so much pain and pleasure it was overstimulating. The assassin’s arms were vice-gripped around her waist, and her mouth, tongue, teeth--they seemed to be moving at the speed of light, devouring her skin. Yes. Yes. Yes…

A scream. Aurora sat up; she knew the sound like the back of her hand. Maleficent, irritated, pulled her back in, but Aurora tried to struggle out out her grasp. If only she could listen closely, to figure out what was wrong…

“RORA! HELP!”

A child’s cry. Aurora gasped and forced as much as she could against Maleficent’s arms, but they held her like iron bars. “Let me go,” she cried. “Mal! Please!”

As the cry “Rora!” grew fainter and fainter, Aurora grew frantic.   
“Aaahhhhh! Let--me--go!” 

Maleficent, a demon, snarled, and held her even tighter; her sucks and kisses became savage. 

“Don’t go now, Aurora,” she murmured while going up for air. “We’ve only just begun.”

With that, Aurora felt herself screech, and pain blackened her vision as Maleficent bit, hard, down on the side of her neck. 

*******

When she awoke, bathed in a bath of her own sweat and tears, it was Diaval who held her in his arms. This, too, made Aurora feel safe, among other things. She felt warmth from his arms wrap her own goosefleshed ones in a bundle. She felt ashamed; Diaval wasn’t supposed to play loving father in this twisted family. And yet: here he was, caressing her like a baby who needed swaddling. 

“Aurora...” His voice, only twenty-four but as deep and wise as someone who lived for a century or more, knew. He knew. Aurora was filled with the sudden realization that if she had indeed talked in her sleep like she was reputed to, then her dreams had definitely belied all. And that meant Diaval knew. About everything.

“I don’t want to press you, but…” 

God, how she loved him. Not the same love as for the woman he lived with, but a fierce and undying love just the same. 

“Diaval.” She stared up at him, upside down, at his brown eyes that were filled with no malicious intent, simply concern. At this, tears began to stream down her face as she recalled memories buried deep in the recesses, the voids of her memory. “I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to know that you may think I’m a monster.”

He stroked her blond waves. “I could never think that, Aurora. You are the most innocent creature to ever walk this sinned earth.”

It only made her cry harder. “No, Diaval...fuck...I can’t! I can’t...I--”

“You..?”

“I killed someone, Diaval.”

**********

 

“It was two years, three months, and eleven days ago exactly. I know this, Diaval, because I have been fucking counting the days since it happened.

Do you know when I first knew I liked girls, Diaval? When I was six years old, and I saw one of my father’s old students come up to him at a reunion, and she caressed my cheek and called me “the cutest thing to ever walk the earth”. I felt something funny in my stomach and from then on, bam. Hooked. Fuck.

Her name, Diaval? It was...Jasmine. God, if you could’ve seen her--she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. Her skin was olive and her hair was jet-black...coupled with the most vibrant eyes--too vibrant for a teenager--she looked liked she’d already lived a thousand lifetimes. Maybe she had, yeah? I didn’t really even know. 

She...loved me back, Diaval. She was the first, ever. Maybe that’s why I was so crazy about her. No one else had reciprocated my feelings, every other girl had distanced herself from me or reinforced the “friends” border or some stupid shit like that, but Jas was different. I felt like we may have been related in another life, because we were so goddamn similar. We were two peas in a pod--glued at the hip. And I loved her, and she loved me back, and I had never felt anything so exhilarating in my life before. 

She had her flaws, as does everyone. No, she didn’t hide them...maybe I loved her more because of it? Every so often she would act very possessive and tell everyone that I was hers and only hers; of course, I didn’t mind since I was so wild about her. Sometimes she was spoiled, coming from vague royalty; mind you, I didn’t really think anything of it at the time. She wanted everything to be just so, and would get a little scary when things didn’t go her way...but I never really saw that side of her, because she always did get her way. I went to such lengths to make sure it happened.

My father disapproved, of course. Having a gay daughter doesn’t help your family’s precarious social standing, especially not when you live in a fucking insulated bubble of a town, Diaval. Jesus. But he and I never really got on--I was more of the typical “rebel kid” than you’d expect--and it was fine. Sort of. My older brother--Fuck, Diaval, I’ve never even told this to anyone! I bet you didn’t know I even had a fucking white-bread All-American family, did you? My older brother, Kristoff--he was away at boarding school, he didn’t even give a damn about me and Jas, although I knew it was all for the better, since he’d have probably tried to steal her if he were there. And...

My youn--younger--sister...My younger sister, Meg. Megara. She idolized me, she thought my little romance with Jasmine was so cute, she’d squeal whenever she saw us holding hands, shit like that...She was only five, Diaval. Only five. 

I resented her, at first, in the early stages of my relationship with Jasmine. I’d wanted more and more freedom, and my father punished me by (seemingly) holding me back more and more. So in return, I’d lash out or push back, and so the awful cycle continued. She loved me, and…

The summer was hot, humid, and everything that I’d hoped it wouldn’t be. Jasmine was pissed at me--she usually was, because she felt that I wasn’t putting our relationship on first priority as I’d have to take care of Meg. So everything was all up in a jumble and I was getting nervous sweats every day, being really anxious, you feel me? And I just wanted to please her, but I couldn’t flat out ignore Meg, or she’d tell and my father would have my head. Or so I thought--Jas kept telling me that everything would be fine, if only one day mattered...shit like that. And I believed her.

It wasn’t even night--it was full-on daytime. My father, my stupid fucking father...he expected me to take care of Meg but all he did was work and then gamble, never there for me or her. And I just thought that Megara was old enough, y’know? What with being around me all the time, I’d assumed she’d grown up enough. I guess it just faded from my mind that she was 5. Fucking 5, Diaval. And it was--around noontime, I guess? And Jas knocked on my door. She’d had to walk for almost a mile up the driveway, since we lived on such a big property. Woods, lake, garden, the whole shebang. And you know what?

She convinced me. Told me Meg was gonna be okay, just for a few hours, by herself.

And I reached down, gave Meg a hug, and told her “you’re a big girl, right?” and she nodded furiously, and I told her “then big girls don’t tell daddy, okay? It’ll be just our little secret.” and I left with Jasmine. To go hold hands or some stupid shit like that, just walking along the forest path.

And we stayed out so long, I forgot which path was which and it was almost nigh time for my father to get home. I was in such bliss, I’d lost track of the time. I told Meg she could take whatever she wanted from the fridge, and watch whatever TV she wanted, which I thought would’ve made her ecstatic? But no. God, no.

I got back. She wasn’t there, Diaval. She wasn’t there! And Jasmine had already gone home, so she never fucking saw me. 

Well, I found her, eventually. Meg, I mean. Floating facedown in the pond my our garden. I looked and saw she hadn’t bothered to put her grippy boots on, just barefoot, and the mud right beside was all torn up from her slipping. The water was only four feet deep, but she didn’t even know how to swim yet. 

Have you ever felt so much crushing sorrow that you wanted to die, right then and there? I doubt it, Diaval. I doubt you had to cradle your own sibling’s body in your arms until your father got home, and by then you were delirious with pain, sadness, you didn’t even know what the fuck was going on. I tried CPR for almost two hours straight, Diaval. I broke my hand doing it, but that wasn’t enough pain I wanted to feel for being such a monster. 

The police told me I’d been talking to her as if she were still alive. God, how I wish it were true. I fucking wish it were true, Diaval.

Well, you can imagine that put quite the strain on the old father-daughter relationship. He shut himself up in his work (he always preferred Meg over me, and this basically made him hate me); I was not so lucky as to be preoccupied. I was alone with the crushing weight of my own thoughts most days. Dad and I essentially stopped talking for three years, save for short bursts of conversation.

Therapists, therapists, therapists. I had many. They didn't help, Diaval. I still feel the crushing guilt like a cloud hanging over me, as clear as if it were yesterday. I seem cheerful to you, but that's because I'm in denial about what a fucking joke I am of a human being. I hate it and I hate myself most days. So. There you have it.

************

The raven-haired man gulped and cradled the girl’s head in his lap. 

“That's...quite the story.”

She laughed bitterly. “You think?”

“I...don’t even know what to say. That’s so awful I--I can’t wrap my head around the fact that such an innocent girl as you would….”

“Diaval--I can't stay cooped up in this house anymore. I need to get out! Take me out--even grocery shopping! Please, Diaval. If I stay trapped with my demons I think I’m gonna snap. Fuck, Diaval, I don’t like living in this limbo, not really living but half-dead already, goddammit!”

A little sigh escaped his lips. “Aurora…What are you saying?”

“No! Don’t look at me like it’s a crazy idea! Look, Diaval, I have it all planned out--I could go in disguise, no one is going to be looking for a freckled short brunette girl, are they? Plus, it’s been months and months, they’ve bound to have moved on to a different topic in the news--”

“Aurora, honey, look...I don’t think that’s a very good idea. For one, how would you ever convince Mal?”

“She doesn’t have to know!”

“Believe me, if you knew how much she kept tabs on you at all hours of the day, she’d notice right away, hon. She’d skin me alive if she found out I had anything to do with you leaving the house.”

“What if…” Aurora felt the enormous futility of her situation slowly come crashing down around her. “I could talk to her, see if I can crack her hard exterior--”

He shook his head, more firmly. “Don’t be foolish. You know that won’t happen.”

The blonde sat up and rubbed her eyes. “It can, Diaval! If only you believed…”

“Dammit, Aurora! I don’t want to push you when you’re in this sorry state, but don’t you see what you’re asking of me? There’s a reason Mal hasn’t let you out of her sight in a few months. DO you think she’d be okay with you sneaking out? No! Of course not!”

Her bottom lip began to quiver involuntarily, and Diaval felt his heart drop. “Aurora, no...I didn’t mean...God, I’m an ass.” He took her in his arms and hugged her for what seemed like a very long time, neither of them speaking.

After a few minutes, the girl’s shaking had stopped, and she was calm. He felt her eyes boring into the wall behind him and knew she was far from being asleep. 

“Aurora, you beautiful soul,” he took her face in his hands. “You haven’t gotten me to say yes, because I know Maleficent will skin me alive were I to let you out of the house. But I hate to see you cry, goddammit! We can talk about it, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay, Diaval.” Her eyes were red.

As they lay down together, Aurora nestling her tangled blonde hair into the raven man’s shoulder, they both felt the calming sensation of night washing over everything.


	17. If Only for a Night

Maleficent threw a pile of Salvation army black shirts and blue jeans at Diaval, who caught them, the wind getting knocked out of his chest with the force. He stared.

“I mean,” he gulped, “I s’pose I could get used to dressing like a hacker from the 80s…”

The assassin scoffed. “Your humor is ill-met here, raven boy. You said you had no clothes, so I bought some for you. You should be grateful.”

“I didn’t say I had no clothes, I said all my clothes were at my apartment--”

“...Where you no longer live. Cheers.”

So far, living with the assassin was a bit of a rude awakening, to say the least. Granted, he knew better than to expect life like a hotel, but Maleficent was a wee bit more closed-off than he’d anticipated. They were living in a shitty two-bedroom apartment in the sketchy area of Arendale, with no hot water past the first 5 minutes of a shower, god forbid no roaches in the tub, and a small hard mattress for him to sleep on. The assassin had bought him a weirdly high-tech, newest-on-the-market laptop for all his recon assignments, but he never actually got to thank her as he lived like a normal person and she seemed to only live at nighttime. She shut herself in her room all day, and almost as soon as the clock struck eight or nine would slip out with a curt nod to Diaval who would be working away or munching on a slice of cold pizza. It was almost like his college dorm days, except now his roommate was only just barely so.

Once, he had tried following her. He managed to track her for five blocks, considering himself very professional, until she stopped and without turning around said “Go away, Diaval.” 

“Maleficent, you never tell me where you’re going! I think if we’re partners we should at least be open with each other. Look, I’ve gotten past the fact that you, uh...kill people for a living. See, look! Unfazed. But at least tell me, so I can keep tabs on you in case you get into trouble or something.”

She laughed harshly and turned around, her vivid green eyes still startling him.

“I never get in trouble. Never have, raven boy, never will. All I need is for you to be my secretary, not follow me around like a puppy dog. Besides, it’s only ten-thirty, I’m just going to blow off some steam.”

“By…?”

“Boxing, you sap. I suppose you’ll want to come?”

“On second thought, I just realized I’m allergic to exercise,” he sputtered, and hurried home.

Now, she was showing--what he supposed he could call tenderness?--towards him, buying clothes and all to make sure he got on all right. She was an enigma, that was for sure, and somehow Diaval knew he wasn't going to dig underneath her facade, maybe ever.

Maleficent. Maleficent, Maleficent, Maleficent. She was nobody’s bitch, yet it seemed like the whole world was hers. Who was she? Diaval didn’t know.

And he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to find out. 

********************

Shit.

Diaval was in deep shit. Oh, deep, deep shit. Maleficent would never let him hear the end of it, if she didn’t actually disembowel him first. His teeth were actually chattering, for god’s sake, he was so scared. 

And it had all gone so well, at first!

He had trouble imagining where it went wrong. How could he, one of the best and most secretive computer scientists in the entire city have overlooked such an obvious detail? Oh, Maleficent is going to kill me. Fuck. She’s going to kill me. 

“Nice place you’ve picked,” Philip had commented, scanning the restaurant up and down. Diaval had chosen it specifically for its upscale quality while still being a city secret so they could still stay relatively hidden. 

The dinner had gone splendidly, it was rich and satisfying and the venue was everything Diaval had hoped it would be. No one looked at them the wrong way, Diaval didn’t feel like Mal was watching him from afar, it was all swell. 

They had gone to the CineStar close by to watch the new Disney movie. Diaval was thrilled that Philip didn’t have any hesitations about watching something normally meant for kids. It was funny, lighthearted; just what he needed after many stressful weeks spent in the tension-filled mansion. 

Philip had had to leave right after it ended, he had to get up early, so he planted a chaste (score!!!!!) kiss on Diaval’s cheek and fled in his BMW. Diaval was left feeling like utter sunshine. 

Until the terrible, awful, outrageous thing happened. 

And that thing, was...well...Aurora.

What the fuck?

It was as if he was in a dream (or rather, a nightmare…); Aurora, dressed in her usual tee and jeans, hiding slightly behind a plant at the end of the entrance hallway, looking purely and innocently at him, as if she didn’t understand how much shit she had gotten them both in!

He walked towards her. Reaching her almost pleading face, he gripped the girl by the shoulders.

“Aurora!” Diaval felt a hiss come out of his mouth, a cruelty and fear he normally never knew he could have. “What the absolute fuck are you doing here?!”

“I--I--you can’t understand, Diaval, I needed--”

“What? You needed what, Aurora? Don’t you understand the severity of what you’ve done?” He felt delirious. He pulled her further into the corner so they didn’t look like absolute maniacs. Surely, Diaval hoped, they just looked like a brother and sister, or maybe very young father and daughter having an argument.

“Diaval!” The girl’s face crumpled, and Diaval felt his composure begin to slip. No, you will not pity this girl, she has gotten you into so much trouble…

“I needed to get out, Diaval. Can’t you see? It’s been so long since I saw the real world, I just thought...I don’t know. I thought I could leave for a little, not be detected, come back, all would be fine. I didn’t know how long you’d be gone for, I swear--”

With that, she threw her arms around him, crying silently. 

“Aurora…” Diaval felt his hands shakily wrap themselves around her back. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this scared before. “I don’t think you truly know what you’ve done. It’ll seem as if I’m going behind Mal’s back and--are you daft? Don’t you know there’s a huge sum of money for your safe return to your father? Everyone in the city is looking for you! There’s a price on my head! We could be in deep trouble!”

Aurora was still. “No one will be looking for me for this long. It’s been months, Diaval. My dad doesn’t care.”

He cringed inwardly. Maybe so, but he cares to find Maleficent, that’s why he needs to find you. “That’s not true. He regularly appears in the papers about trying to find you. There’s goddamn posters of your face in cafés.” He tried to pat her back.

She came out of the hug and looked up at him. “I hid in the back seat, under your blankets. I knew you were leaving, I just...hid for twenty minutes. And you have no idea how good it felt to be out of the house! I mean, not away from her, but..”

Diaval shook his head. “And you just tailed us the entire night.”

“Yep.”

“So...you know about--”

“You and him are a much better couple than him and I, Diaval.” Aurora smiled sadly. “It was nice seeing him happy. And you, for that matter. And I was stealthy, wasn’t I? You only found me because I wanted you to.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the point. Mal will have known you were gone since ten minutes after you left.”

Aurora looked stricken. “What do you--”

“She keeps tabs on you. Me too, but especially you, Aurora. Frankly, you’re the key to your father finding us and killing us. Of course she doesn’t want you wandering off--what if you’ve gone and blabbed about us to him?”

“I wouldn’t do that! You know that!”

“I know, honey, but Maleficent’s paranoid. And…” He felt the pit in his stomach drop. She can’t know, Diaval. Not the truth. “Part of it is because she’s fond of you, Aurora. She couldn’t bear if you disappeared. You wouldn’t think so, but Mal secretly harbours a lot of...tenderness.” Phew.

“Oh come on. Maleficent hates me.”

“No, Aurora, she doesn’t.” She loves you, but you don’t know that.

There was a pause. A very long one.

“What are we going to do, Diaval?”

“I don’t know, sister. We go back and hope we don’t get skinned alive.”

*******

The first few days after the accident were surprisingly easy to bear. So many family members, friends Aurora didn't know she had, came by to give their condolences. She barely had time to grieve, as there was always someone in the house other than her. And besides, she didn't have to look at her father’s face anymore and face the awful truth of what she had done, now that he threw himself into his work all day and went out to bars as soon as the sun set. He was a ghost, and Aurora was bitterly glad for it. She didn't have to look in his eyes that she knew he knew. Oh, he knew. 

Aurora wasn't even the favourite child. Stefan doted on Meg, that was plain to see to everyone. Gifts, new clothes, a bike, ice cream, whatever the little girl wanted. Aurora didn't really mind; Meg was so sweet to her she made up for whatever unfairness Aurora had experienced (which was, not so much as a hug in her direction from her dear father). Meg was going to be a movie star, Stefan always gushed to strangers. And it was true--even at five, she had the almond eyes, plump lips, and gorgeous brown hair of someone destined for silver screen fame, while Aurora felt that she had not blossomed even past puberty. 

And now she was dead. Gone. Her body was reduced to black char, after a quiet funeral only Aurora, her father, and the priest presided over. 

Dead, and it was all Aurora’s fault. She wondered, looking at the kindly priest, if she was going to Hell. 

Well, even if He didn't care about the accident, I'm still a lesbian.

She supposed there was nothing she could do to save her soul. Gradually, beginning a few weeks after the event, Aurora began to fade out of her religious beliefs. Granted, she had always been suspicious of the idea of being penalized for whomever she loved, but she halfheartedly went along with it so her father wouldn't have one more reason to dislike her. In theory, she loved the façade that she put up to everyone around her: the good Christian girl, who did her homework and loved her dad and had a nice steady Jesus-loving boyfriend. The reality--a sullen girl who fought with the one parent who was around to take care of her, the girl who got weak in the knees every time a beautiful woman smiled at her, who loved no one, not truly, except for her little sister. 

Ha. It was pathetic.

But no, it were the weeks after, those fateful few weeks. Looking back, Aurora honestly didn't know what kept her going. Hope for the fuckin’ future, maybe.

When she was alone, Aurora would look out the window and feel so awful, terrible, it felt like her insides were threatening to revolt and she would be physically ill. The thought of being such a monster made Aurora want to die. She almost did. There were a few times. She kept going, living, not out of relief but of necessity, maybe. She didn't really know.

The worst part was, Jasmine was there. She felt awful too, she confessed to Aurora, the secret was eating her away, and she began to move closer to Aurora in the hopes that they could shoulder the burden together.

And how Aurora wished it were so. God, how she wished it were truly so; but she felt repulsed by the beautiful exotic girl who had once held her heart in a snare. To even look at Jasmine made tears come to her eyes, painful memories come flooding back; nevermind the touches on her arm, her back, that once made Aurora shiver with pleasure but now only made her quake with dread. She dug herself deeper into her hole and hated her entire being for suddenly wanting Jasmine gone.

She supposed it was, in the end, Jasmine who helped get her through things. She was always there for the increasingly distant Aurora, helping, holding her. But as the months went on, and on, and Aurora’s ambivalence seemed to stem from more than just grievances, she faded out of Aurora’s life. Aurora herself wasn't even entirely sure how it happened. Maybe one too many curt responses, too many missed calls in the name of depression...After the first year had passed, she moved away.

She didn't call to say goodbye.


	18. Of Gins and Tonics, and Unsaid Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhh I'm a terrible updater! anyways, here you go. I feel like I'm moving too far into cheeseball territory but as Juicy J once said, "There's no going back."

Aurora found her on the roof when they arrived.

It wasn’t that late, only 10:45 or so, but the cold spring air kept a chill dancing on her skin as she carefully tiptoed around the mansion, heart pounding as if the assassin were right around every corner. Diaval had waited in the kitchen, Aurora presumed, to dull his nerves by pouring gin and tonic after gin and tonic. Aurora, however, decided that Maleficent could not really do much harm to her any more than she could to Diaval, and so she decided to take her chances on the volatile woman. 

After cautiously looking through the entire house, 107 rooms and all, Aurora came to the realization that she was simply putting off going to check where she knew Maleficent was going to be: the place where so many events, emotions, had collided. 

That was their place. Aurora doubted Maleficent had even been up there until she came into her life.

The weighted silence that greeted Aurora as she climbed onto the roof told her everything she needed to know. She cautiously gripped the ironworking ringing the edge and hoisted herself up, coming straight into icy contact with those dark green eyes.

Maleficent’s form--although obscured partially by both the cloaking of darkness brought on by the late hour and the black robe the assassin was draped in--was visible in all its terrifying glory. She must have known Aurora was going to find her sooner or later, so she stared at the blonde fully frontal, knowing her gaze would pierce the younger’s guilty one right through.

“I see you’re back.”

No bemused head tilt, no small smirk. No lilting lullaby of a voice. Aurora knew she felt betrayed.

“I...don’t know what to say.”

“Then don't. No use trying to use up air to convey any wheedling thoughts you might have to try and explain yourself. What you did was inane. Idiotic, Aurora.”

“Idiotic?” Despite her trembling hands, she still felt a surge of recognizable stubbornness well up in her. “I've been cooped up for months! I'm stealthy, no one would have noticed me, I see no reason why--”

“No reason? Let me tell you a few. If you had been spotted and recognized, you would be taken back to your dear old dad. I doubt he'd be very happy to have you back, were it not for your--let's say uncanny--predicament in which you would be able to give him all the information he needs--and I didn't say tell, Aurora, I said give; he'd likely find us without you even saying a fucking word--to find Diaval and I. Then what? 

“Well, Diaval would be taken in for questioning, but because Stefan has a goddamn lockdown on the police, he’d be put away without a trial. Your poor husb--pardon, fiancé--would be caught in the crossfire. If he weren't also given a serious punishment, he'd end up back with you, and let's say that’s not going to be the happiest of marriages.

“As for me, I believe your dad would love to have the pleasure of killing me personally. Not that I'm afraid of death; once your kinsmen betray you the prospect of solidarity seems a lot brighter. Stefan can always say I was killed trying to resist arrest. 

“So how would you feel, Aurora, knowing one small act could bring about such an avalanche of despair?”

Maleficent suddenly sat back on her haunches, unaware she had gotten so close to Aurora that she was practically spitting in the girl's face. She straightened her shoulders and steadied her breathing, not a tad embarrassed. Her piercing green eyes were dilated; Aurora felt a cold sweat running through her body and wished she could just curl up in a ball and be cradled.

Aurora herself was in no better shape. She kept telling herself she shouldn't cry in front of the assassin, that emotions meant weakness and that Maleficent hated weakness; however, tears were streaming freely down her cheeks and there was naught to be done. A soft rain, matching her sobs, had begun to lightly fall.

“Maleficent, I...I wasn't thinking! I just...I felt like the world had gone on without me, and I--”

“If you wish so badly to leave us, I can organize safer means of leaving the city.” The assassin’s characteristic détachée voice wobbled only slightly, but belied a raw emotion underneath that scared Aurora to think about.

“No, it's not that, Mal--”

“Mal.”

“What?”

“You were about to say Maleficent.”

“Uh--”

“You can say Mal, if you wish.” A huffing noise ensued, as if the assassin were weary of all the trivialities she had endured.

Aurora’s breath halted. The soft pitter-patter of the rain had turned into a full-scale downpour, and she could feel her shirt getting soaked through. A shiver racked her body, an electric jolt. You know I like it here, I didn't mean what I said.”

The assassin huffed again, but was silent.

Aurora sniffled. “I only ever would have gone out because I thought no one would notice me, Mal. I...I know my dad. He’s not focused on me. He’ll have the whole police force in the city tasked with finding you, not me. I knew he’d forget eventually...I only wanted to go out with Diaval, I had no idea he was dating Philip! I...I wanted to feel like...a teenager again, see a movie, or some shit like that...it was dumb; I...was just going stir-crazy at home, all the weeks--months--”

Aurora was abruptly cut off by something shocking, something she had never dreamed the assassin would do, let alone was prepared for, and it was incredible, if very unnatural.

Maleficent reached out and hugged her.

Aurora stopped crying at once, too much in a state of awe. Maleficent’s arms were thin and not particularly cuddly, and she held the blonde in an awkward, rain-soaked embrace, unsure of what to do; at the same time, the hug conveyed seemingly the emotions Maleficent had been trying to access, all the feeling she had suppressed for so many weeks. Aurora felt a tangible physicality about the assassin; as though it were only a fraction of all the things she felt, as though she would explode if prodded further.

Aurora leaned into the embrace and found that while Maleficent did not feel particularly warm or welcoming, she didn't stiffen and pull away, as was normal behaviour. 

She found it almost comical how they were sitting there, intertwined on a roof in the rain, but decided not to comment further lest Maleficent regret the initiation.

“Aurora--” the assassin began, uncomfortably, but was cut off by the blonde.

“It's alright.” She felt odd for saying it, given that she should have been the one being comforted, but she somehow knew that words alone couldn't ever have begun to explain things. 

For what seemed like an eternity, they sat together, until Aurora finally felt the cold seeping into her bones. She started to shake lightly, and Maleficent pulled away from her, staring her dead on. 

“Let's get you inside Aurora, or you'll catch your--”

Maleficent trailed off as Aurora raised her gaze to return the assassin’s own. Remarkably, Aurora was amazed to find that no longer did she see the standoffish, poised, and mocking face looking back at her. Rather, she found herself seeing an entirely unknown side to Maleficent: no makeup; wet, sloppy hair, and eyes that seemed melancholy beyond repair. She smiled ruefully up at the assassin. 

“Apology…accepted?” she asked, hopefully. 

Maleficent gave a small half-smile and her typical huff, but the lost eyes remained. She looked down and shook her head. “There are so many things I feel I cannot say, and yet I feel I must.” 

“So….”

“Apology accepted.”


	19. Of Secrets and Hidings

Li Shang sipped his caramel macchiato calmly, watching his arm muscles flex as he raised the cup to his lips. _I can't help it_ , he sighed to himself. _I'm so hot_.

It was his third coffee of the day, and by far not the last. Sure, his paycheck had skyrocketed since taking on that bastard Stefan’s insane hunt for his long-lost fuck buddy or something, but it sure came with its stresses. The fact that Nara had been so easily (and bloodily, as Li Shang had seen) disposed of only disturbed him more. _What's this guys’ problem, that he can't let go of one bad memory, or something?_

The weirdest part was, Mr. Irons seemed to be more preoccupied with the assassin part of the case, as opposed to finding his daughter. _Maybe he’s already accepted her death_ , he mused. It seemed odd. There was no trace of Aurora as far as they could find, apart from the initial blood splatter on her apartment wall that first night Nara had found. But if she wasn't there, didn't that mean the True Love’s Kisser had thought she was useful for some purpose, and taken her? The girl couldn't have disappeared without a trace. Weirder still, if Aurora was the assassin’s hostage, why had no ransom demands come in for the past 5 months? It was odd, and Li Shang couldn't wrap his head around it. 

The only other possible explanation he thought of was one that made his blood run cold. Had Aurora...gone with the True Love’s Kisser _willingly?_ Had the assassin been under their noses this entire time, in the form of a connection with Stefan’s daughter? Aurora didn't seem to have many close friends…

He couldn't begin to being the subject up around Stefan, though. He did try, once, when he thought the man was in one of his better moods. _Guess not_. Irons had had such a bad reaction that Li Shang thought he would get his own head smashed in by the guy. 

He put his mouth on the cup but found it empty. _Dammit_. The only problem with the idea, he thought, was that it's impossible to find a girl who doesn't want to be found. 

The Kissing Case was proving to be less romantic than he thought. _Or...was it more?_ He stood up to order another macchiato; then looked down, patted his stomach, and decided on simple black coffee. 

As he was walking towards the till, a flash of blond-brown hair caught his eye. Was that…

“ _Charming?_ ”

Philip whipped around so fast it made Li Shang’s head spin; his tousled hair bounced like a sheepdog and obscured his eyes for a moment. He seemed wary beyond repair, and Shang immediately got an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. Nonetheless, the younger man smiled nervously.

“Li Shang! I...uh...what--”

“You going to introduce me?” he flashed a confident, if arrogant, smile. There was a man sitting opposite Philip, handsome and slender, with long slicked-back black hair and hawkish features. He eyed Li Shang with obvious distrust. Had he met this guy before?

“Oh! Yeah. Uh, Diaval, this is my business partner, Li Shang. He’s been vital to the Kissing Case, he's a total hard worker. Li Shang, this is Diaval Corbeau. My…”

“Friend,” the raven man chirped. “We meet for espresso every so often.” He seemed unwilling to reveal more. 

“How perfectly pleasant.” 

“Shang, can I have a moment with you? Just a quick sec--” Philip stuttered, à-la _I can explain, it's not what it looks like_. 

“Actually, I was just about to leave,” the Corbeau man said quickly, and stood up. He motioned to Charming. “Call me later? And...nice meeting you,” he said to Li Shang just as quickly, head down. He walked out of the café with a quick shake of his long black hair, and Li Shang watched him go. 

“Sit,” Philip gestured warmly, if a bit too fast. “I’m on break, if you were wondering, so--”

“So am I. Look, before you freak out, I'm not a homophobe,” Li Shang said. “I'm totally okay on that front. But...dude, _why now_? And...why him? Stefan would flip shit if he knew the fiancé of his missing daughter...moved on, so to speak, so quickly. Now there’s a homophobe when I see one. Not to mention, he wants his... _henchmen_ to not have relationships, says it interferes with the severity of situations…”

“I'm really stressed out, man. That's just it. And Diaval...well, he has a way of-- _lessening that_. I'll put it like that. Losing Aurora was really hard on me, you know that, it's just…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the situation is more complicated than it looks. I'd have a hard time loving someone I was forced to marry too. But, Charming...I don't trust him.”

“Wha--you’ve only just met him!”

“He was looking at me like I was a wolf or something. And plus; don't you think it's more than slightly odd that you meet someone as suspicious--no, don't interrupt--as he is just as you begin work on the Kissing Case? Like, maybe he _knew_ you were connected with Aurora somehow? Do you not feel that that's a little strange?”

Philip looked baffled. “Not really. He’s pretty innocent. I mean, he said he’s following the Kissing Case in the news, but he’s pretty clueless beyond that.”

“God, you know what? You can be pretty naïve sometimes. Look, man, all I'm going to say is that you should be careful.”

“I am being careful! Just, Li Shang...please don't tell Stefan. He'd have my head.”

Li Shang raised an eyebrow. He had perfect blackmail material, and Charming just expected him to give it up after a simple please?

“Better stay in line, Philip Charming. I'd watch out who you're talking to.”

“Wait--”

Li Shang got up, left a ten on the table, and sauntered out. He was going to find some answers.

********

“Have you finished _Lord of the Rings yet_?”

Maleficent looked up from weeding to see Aurora’s messy blonde waves obscuring the sun, her hair being a halo of sorts by itself. The girl was smiling, despite the god-awful weather (it was simultaneously glaringly bright, cloudy, and muggy), and a small, hard part of Maleficent’s heart warmed up. She ached to hold the girl in her arms as she had once done ( _or was that a hazy dream I had? It doesn't seem possible_ ) more than a week ago. The two had remained amicable and friendly ( _I am not friendly_ , she reminded herself, _I am the night. Strong, Powerful, Dark_.) since the incident, although Maleficent winced to think of the fact that she had actually reached out and embraced the girl for once. _I mustn't let personal thoughts affect the way I conduct myself_. Granted, it was hard. The fact that the girl seemed to have matured, both physically and emotionally, under her martial arts tutelage made Maleficent feel...odd. It made her wonder whether that was what being a mother felt like. _But then again, such a teacher wouldn't have those perverse thoughts about her student, would she?_

It was bad enough that Aurora had physically gotten in shape, too. Maleficent could hardly bear to be alone with her thoughts, since they always seemed to wander back to the girl’s newly rounded ass, or the peek of a slender, milky thigh when she wandered around in just an oversized tee (as she was prone to doing). _God_. It was as if she were _trying_ to be a tease! Not only that, but she had gone from a morose, disoriented waif to a bubbly, cheerful thing, (which the assassin had hoped in part was due to the time she spent with her; however, she realized she should probably give Diaval more credit for that). 

And god, Maleficent _wanted_ her. She felt the word desire so foreign that she couldn't bring herself to think it, and it made her feel like a monster to imagine, but she desired Aurora with a voracity; a woman in a desert, and the girl was her water that she so desperately craved. _Stop! Stop thinking about it!_

It didn't help that Aurora was just seventeen. Newly, that: her birthday had passed quietly during her time with them, but only half a year’s change seemed to make all the difference. Maleficent herself didn't think getting closer to death was anything to be happy about, but Diaval had hissed at her something about _normal people things_ and made a cake from a cake mix. They had all toasted Aurora with gin and tonics and devil’s food, and all Maleficent could think about was they way Aurora seemed _a lot older_ and adorably kept running her hands through her hair.

So. She was seventeen, and Maleficent was still immoral.

She mused that although her mind must be horribly depraved, at least she still marginally had the ability to hide her emotions behind a stone mask. Marginally--now she felt that even that had begun to slip. Maleficent felt that there had been too many incidents, too many slipups where she had become vulnerable in front of Aurora, that it didn't seem worth it to keep the mask up. _It would be so much easier…_

She blinked and rubbed her eyes, jolted back to reality--and to the girl. 

“Of course. I always finish what I start.”

Aurora smirked. “...especially  
books.”

“Especially.” Maleficent allowed herself a small half-smile.

“Are you... _weeding_?” the girl giggled, a sound that tingled the air with electricity. _Fuck. Me._

“What's wrong with that, beastie? ( _don't call her beastie, you pathetic fool._ )

Aurora gave a small _pffft_. “As if. The True Love’s Kisser, infamous for her grisly  
deeds, finds solace in plucking dandelions from garden tiles?” she laughed again. 

Maleficent tried to appear indignant, but she found those former moods were few and far between.

“It's a well-known fact that every famous killer has a polar opposite side to them, “ she explained mockingly. “It helps them from going overboard, balances them out, you see. Dahmer baked cookies. Hannibal visited the SPCA. Vlad the Impaler...well, it's no secret he had a penchant for knitting. And me?” She winked at the girl. “weeding--”

She was abruptly cut off by Aurora bursting out into peals of laughter and a playful “I call bullshit!”

Instead, the assassin just rolled her eyes and flicked a dandelion at her. 

_Fuck. I'm getting soft_ , a small voice in the back of her mind told her. She couldn't entirely bring herself to let go entirely, given her situation, but felt as if there was a giant wall in front of her, preventing her from moving forward. How does one get rid of a wall, when one doesn't even know where to begin? Maleficent found the somber mask much easier to don when her thoughts were preoccupied with dealing with emotional trauma.

Aurora sat down on the garden tiles next to her. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That. That thing.”

“ _What thing_?”

Aurora tilted her head, her eyebrows suddenly knit together. “Every time it feels like you’re having fun, you suddenly seem to correct yourself, like you're thinking about something. Then, you get really quiet.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Come now, Malefi--Mal,” Aurora pleaded softly. “you probably think it's dumb, but...do you want to talk about it?”

The assassin exhaled. “It's not something that I can just talk about--it wouldn't even begin to cover the damage I've done and been given.”

“I just, you know…” Aurora motioned to her back and Maleficent momentarily flinched, then blinked and quickly recovered. 

“I'm going to tell you right now,” she began, “that I'm not ready to tell you the full story of how I got my scars. That, I don't think, I can even admit to myself. You are kind to want to help, Aurora, but it's not so simple as that.”

Aurora cocked her head, while Maleficent took a deep breath, willed herself to go on, and continued.

“How does one open up when all one’s life they've been shut?” Maleficent sighed. 

_I can't open up to you, Aurora, not when I'll get too attached. You won't be here forever, and all I can do is hope the absence will be bearable._

“You know, you're not a monster for having feelings. It's okay to show them once in a while.”

“Would that it were so simple,” Maleficent muttered. “In my...profession, everyone would say otherwise.”

_Beastie. Too much you can't know._

“I just…” Aurora continued, tilting her head. “Okay, alright. I won't push you to talk, I know how hard that can be. I know trauma--I mean, not as firsthand as you do--so you are by no means required to talk to me, Mal. But…I just want you to know that if you ever, ever felt the need to...you can talk. I mean, to me. I won't ever judge you, or…” She trailed off, biting her lip. 

Maleficent looked up and at the girl for a solid minute. She spoke, the words drifting into the air like smoke haze. Softly.

“Frankly, Aurora, I don't see how much longer I can keep the darkness hidden, since you came here.

“I think without you, all this would continue to fester, like an old wound, instead of being slowly brought to light. I think...you're the best thing that could have happened to me, beastie.”

_Shit. Too much._

But Aurora looked at her and smiled. “I'd wager the same thing.”


	20. Of Drugs and Old Friendships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whooooooa nelly it's been awhile. Hi y'all, thank you (anyone who is reading this) for sticking with this fic for as slowly as I've been working on it. xoxoxoxo

*******  
The smell of sandalwood, sweat, and cigar smoke invaded Li Shang’s nostrils when he walked into the nondescript building basement. Of course, many people knew the “secret”: what seemed to be the Robin and Sons Moving Co. was actually the hotspot for degenerate youths to visit on Friday and Saturday nights. What most people didn’t know was that the grey basement in the grey building on the grey street was the home of the largest drug-trafficking business in the city, run by Li Shang’s oldest friend, Fa Mulan. Another scent, deeper, wafted in: opium. Li Shang could recognize that sickly-sweet aroma anywhere.

As he edged through the masses of people playing poker and billiards in a haze, he caught a few giving him dirty looks. Perhaps they’d seen him in the news. It wasn’t a secret that he’d been promoted to Stefan Irons’ right-hand-side. Perhaps they knew he was a traitor. He surmised as much. He’d come a long way from his coke-dealing glory days of fourteen, fifteen, but he suspected that most in his gang were not happy about his leaving them behind for better pay and a better life. Mulan, of course, had done the same, but in the complete opposite direction. He wondered if she hated him.

They had both grown up together, thick as thieves, in side-by-side apartments in the Meatpacking district. Their parents had been close, and they had arrived together from the Henan Province at eight; having scrawny bodies and thick accents made for easy targeting at school. Slowly, they banded together, lifted weights together, and stole a Cantonese-English textbook from the library and pored over it together. Later, when finances were tough, Mulan discovered a backpack full of cocaine on their street at 3 a.m. and split it half-half with Li Shang. They each made $7500 selling, giddy with cash but not fully understanding what they’d gotten themselves into--and it was just the beginning. Now, where were they? Mulan was a drug lord. Li Shang was a henchman, a minion. He’d only tried to kiss her once, when they were seventeen, and she gave him two black eyes. 

He had checked in on her sometimes, but the nature of his new job made it hard to have nefarious dealings. He hadn’t seen her, now, in over five years, but he had conversed with the old men from his old neighbourhood, and they updated him now and then on her comings and goings and how she was doing.

In the basement, he considered playing a game of poker, but doubted any of the dour boys would let him in, knowing he could very well sell them out. Instead, he pushed on to the very back, where a series of silk curtains obscured the view to the back room.   
A guard was standing outside the final, purple curtain. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

“I need to see Fa Mulan.”

“Of course you do, brother. Everyone does nowadays. What is it, a plead for bail or a marriage proposal?”

“No, I just need to talk--”

“Things have gotten different since you last showed your skinny face here, Shang,” 

Shit. He knows me.

“And security’s tight. No going in or out unless a royal pardon comes for you from the goddamn Queen herself.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I grew up with her. She’s my oldest friend!”

“Oh, wow, really? Then I’ll let you in.”

“Really?”

“No, motherfucker. Get lost.”

Li Shang looked around. Thankfully he’d passed enough curtains that the two of them were obscured from the crowd in a kaleidoscopic haze. He twisted around shot his arm out, and latched around the guard’s neck. He sucker-punched the man in the stomach, doubling him over in pain, then shot his fist to the man’s neck, jerking his head back and knocking him out cold. He slumped to the ground, and Li Shang exhaled. 

Still got it.

There seemed to be no pause in the commotion outside, so he left the man lying there and pushed through the final curtain, wringing his hands as he went. The curtain opened up into a velvet-covered private room, with a big desk in the middle and couches on the side.

Several things appeared in Li Shang’s vision at once. Mulan’s father, Fa Zhou, was sprawled on one of them, smoking opium out of a long pipe. He was a vet, and Li Shang knew it was for his bad leg, which he had gotten crippled in the war. He seemed blissfully unaware of what was going on around him, and did not glance at Li Shang. 

On the table, various baggies of the most elite drugs Li Shang knew Mulan sold were laid out, as were stacks of hundred-dollar bills. There had to be at least half a million just there on the table, but he was more startled by Mulan’s intense eyes, which were looking straight at him.

“Look what the dragon dragged in.”

“It’s...good to see--”

“Fuck your formalities, Shang. But you’re right, absence does make the heart grow fonder. What do you want from me?” There was a slight twinkle in Mulan’s eyes that made her seem sly, but the blankness of her expression told Shang she meant business.

“I’ve come to...well, say hi…”

“As you have.” She nodded towards the curtains. “And knocked out my best guard while you were at it, too.”

“Sorry.”

“Frankly, I’m impressed. Continue.”

“And, well...to ask you for a slight favour.”

Mulan. Stopped. She closed her eyes and leaned back. And then, then.

She laughed. A little, then a little more, then a full-on guffaw. It was directly mocking him, Li Shang knew that. He squirmed a little.

“You dare ask a favour from the most successful drug kingpin in the whole city? Now, for a ballsack-less man such as yourself, Shang, I wouldn’t have expected any less. Shoot me.”

“Mulan, please. Can we just talk?”

“Sure, sure,” She giggled, wiping a false tear. Her face then straightened immediately into a frown. “What brings you here? Don’t bullshit me this time.”

“You know the whereabouts and who-abouts...of everyone in this whole goddamn place.”

 

“Surely you did not come here to tell me what I already know, peasant.”

“Well...I’m in trouble. I’m sure you already have heard about it.”

“Rumours, really. They tell me you’ve gone and gotten yourself involved with Stefan Irons, the bloodless guy who I care for less than even a maggot, of all people. Which is why I’m so wary of you in the first place.”

“I mean, yes. But, Mulan, you--”

“Oh, do shut up. You’ve been promoted, haven’t you? That’s why you’re so desperate. And it has to be about that goddamned missing girl--”

“--Aurora.”

“Aurora, Belle, Cindy, I don’t give a fuck. Anyways, you’ve come crawling back here to find her, and Irons will pay you a handsome sum. How right am I?”

 

“Well,” Shang stammered, cracking a small smile. “Right about everything, except for Irons’ motives. And I’ve left out a few key parts that I think might help.”

Mulan raised one perfectly coiffed eyebrow, while he continued.

“There’s this guy. I know it’s really not a lead, but Philip Charming--I mean--”

“I know who the old dope Charming is.”

“Anyways. Charming is dating this...guy, really sketchy character, kind of slick black hair, hawkish nose, and his name’s Diaval Corbeau. Mid-twenties, I’d wager anything. Whatever. I’ve met him a few times, and...well, Philip is on the same case that I’m on, but this Diaval guy gets really jumpy whenever we mention the True Love’s Kisser or anything like that...I don’t know. He doesn’t look me in the eye, and I know he’s up to something. I’d love to bet my life on it. Or at least, Stefan’s money. Ha.”

“You want me to do recon.”

“Irons tells the press he wants to find his daughter more than anything, but I’ve seen him behind the act. He’s not who anyone thinks he is, a lot more dangerous...to tell you the truth, she’s likely connected to the True Love’s Kisser. All his men think capturing the assassin will lead him to Aurora, but it’s the other way around--if he can find Aurora, he’ll find the True Love’s Kisser, and...bam. Whatever happens next is up to fate.”

“Wow,” Mulan sat back. “You’re not entirely as stupid as you were at fifteen. I mean, it all comes down to this: why should I help you? You of all people should know I don’t owe my allegiance to anyone.”

“I know your allegiance lies with money.”

“That’s true.”

“How does a million dollars sound?”

 

The girl rolled her eyes and laughed harshly. “Sure! And I’ll get my criminal record cleaned, and you’ll get a girlfriend, and pigs will fly…”

“Fuck! Okay, five?”

 

“Stefan really is desperate, isn’t he?”

 

“Mulan, please,” Li Shang pleaded. “You--you haven’t seen him like I’ve seen him. The assassin haunts him. He wanders around his office repeating meaningless words, pacing back and forth...he has shaking fits. Drips of sweat roll down his forehead like fuckin’ Niagara Falls. He’s...not okay. And he takes it out on his men. He’s had some killed, dammit. I want him to return back to normal, and so does he, and we both know it, Fa Mulan.”

She paused.

“And, Mulan...remember when we were kids?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Shang, somewhere, out in a forest, a maple tree wants all its sap back. Grow a pair.”

Shang widened his eyes. “So you are interested, then? You do know something about her. About both of them, don’t you? I can tell.”

“Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. Who’s going to know?”

“You know where to find them, don’t you?”

“Well, no. But please, Shang, I can so easily find out. You know me. It’s not an issue of that.”

“Don’t make me get down on my knees and beg.”

 

Mulan smirked. “I like you begging. 

“But as it goes, tell Irons fifteen, and not a penny less. I have an extravagant lifestyle to uphold, dammit. And as far as anyone knows, you were never here.”


	21. When You Are Queen, I Shall Be Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, juicy stuff. After 42000 words and 20 chapters lol. This is where things start progressing reals quick.

A girl who called herself Fa Mulan, barely past twenty, morosely counted bags of ecstasy at a large table in a smoky basement; her father, Fa Zhou, who was rich and arrogant and addicted to opium laughed with his friends in the other room. He had given Mulan the job of counting the drugs for his burgeoning business, which she resented, simply because she didn’t like being told what to do. She’d slip little baggies in her pocket here and there, to sell to her friends at college for a drastically increased price. She had minimal student debt, because of this, while her friends (Li Shang) and sometimes crushes (Li Shang, but less so) were struggling to keep up with payments.

And then something that she’d never forget happened. Well, many things at once, but Mulan remembered it as one big cathartic event. _Satisfying to watch._

First, she heard her father stop laughing in the other room. Odd, the silence. Then, a few crashes, so quick and violent she didn’t even have time to react. Then, a scruffy, bearded man, about ten years older than her and smelling of rancid cigarettes, tore his way in through the silk curtains and promptly fell on the table, flipping Mulan’s chair over and sending little pills flying every which way, which Mulan presumed wasted tens of thousands of dollars alone. The man was still after this, a slow pool of blood formed around his body and Mulan noticed a small dagger lodged in his upper back. She moved slowly to inspect him closer; he was attractive but marred with acne scars and with a sprinkling of stubble on his jaw. 

Eventually, Mulan became aware of another presence in the room; she looked up, and a beautiful, leggy brunette who was dressed in all black and spattered with blood stared right at her. They looked straight at each other for solidly 30 seconds, and then the brunette spoke, blankly:

“Sorry for the mess. I’m not used to killing fast ones.”

Mulan blinked. “Why’d you kill him?” She asked dumbly.

“Kristoff?” the girl asked blankly. “Well, why does anyone do anything? Money. Same reason you’re packing those little pills into bags. Well, you were. Sorry about that. I’ll pay for the damages.”

The brunette walked around, picking up the E from the ground, and, righting the table upright, she laid them on the flat wood surface in a neat pile. She then held her hand out to Mulan and dragged her up.

“What do they call you?”

“Mulan.”

“I’m Maleficent. I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”

The girl who called herself Maleficent picked up the man’s body like it was a feather, then planted a kiss on his lips and dragged him by the arm.

“I’ll throw him in the dumpster, don’t worry.”

As she walked out, Mulan felt oddly happy, and cried out, “Will I be seeing you sometime?”

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.” The assassin smiled. “I’d love to do business sometime.”

She left, noisily dragging the body out of the room, and Mulan pinched herself again and again, to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

*****

It is a truth universally acknowledged that when things are going all right, sometime, somewhere, somehow, they will eventually be very much not all right. After all, Aurora had known all the words to Nelly Furtado’s _All Good Things (Come to an End)_ by heart since she’d been seven. She was in a permanent state of bliss, it seemed, in this new limbo-world she shared with Maleficent and Diaval and all their quirks and qualms; though she knew in the back of her mind that good things were not to come (after all, she knew her father: he’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and that meant that he’d find them, sooner or later), the actual act of not-good-things-coming came much sooner, and more unexpectedly terrible than Aurora thought. 

_Bang, bang, my baby shot me down._

It had all gone so well, and then everything came crashing down. 

_Everything._

It was the first official calendar day of summer, and Aurora had felt lighter than air. She and Maleficent (Aurora still felt a weird feeling whenever she referred to the assassin as Mal) were lounging in the pale early-summer sun, basking in each other’s presence, and she noticed the way Mal’s hair glimmered in the sun, how her angular face shined with a glow (human blood was probably very good for the skin, she supposed), and how her long legs, clean and slender, were crossed at the ankle elegantly. Mal had her eyes closed, which Aurora was grateful for, as she presumed that the assassin would not take well to being surveyed hungrily. 

“Malef--Mal?”

“Hm?”

“Why are we like this? I mean, we’re hunted. We’re like prey. We’re...the talk of the town, everyone’s looking for us, and yet we’re lounging like we don’t have a care in the world. Why do you suppose that is? Aren’t you afraid?”

“Maleficent is not afraid of anything.” 

“I’m serious.”

“So am I, beastie. But I’ve been a hunted woman, you could say, since the day I was born. It’s my fate--it doesn’t change with age. We all walk in Death’s shadow, Aurora. No one can say they are immune. So...it gives me a bit of freedom, I guess. None of us in this human world have anything real to live for except for the company we keep. And that’s...Diaval and you. So I’m happy. I have purpose. Most of our hunters don’t. And that...gives us an advantage.”

“Wow, how eloquent.”

“I try,” Maleficent snickered. “It hasn’t always been this way.”

The steady buzz of nearby traffic increased to a roar; _there must be a jam or a parade going on_ , Aurora had thought.

“But...Mal. This isn’t going to be forever. I mean, is it?” 

“Nothing is forever. But we don’t know when we will ever part, if I’ll see Diaval as an old man, the like…”

“I’m going to miss you, Mal. If we ever do leave.”

Aurora turned to see right into the assassin’s electric eyes, which were piercing and stared right at her. She felt the tension in the air so thick, she could slice through it. Suddenly, her stomach dropped. She didn’t say _I’m going to miss you and Diaval_. She said Mal. Just Mal.

And it’s true.

“Oh, Beastie.”

*****

At the same time this was happening, a man who called himself Li Shang had suddenly gotten a lot more confidence than he previously harbored. He strode in calm, big steps, despite having slightly shaking hands and a not-so-slightly shaking composure. In his hands, he carried an invoice for fifteen million dollars, from Stefan Irons, who signed it while barely looking at the paper. 

In his head, he repeated the mantra Mulan had said to him not two hours prior. 

_Assassin’s accomplice. Assassin’s accomplice. Assassin’s accomplice._

Mulan had told it to him with no expression, but the expression on his face had sufficed enough for both of them. He trusted her enough to lie down in front of a train if she told him to, so there’d be no way she could have lied. Besides, what point was there to give him false information, Shang thought, if she was getting good money otherwise?

“We’ve found this Diaval Corbeau guy, Shang, you’ll be happy to hear,” Mulan yawned. “Turns out I had a lot more sources on his whereabouts than I originally thought. I mean, I don’t like selling out my fellow outlaws like him, but your cash? Got my eyes gleaming, that’s for sure.” She winked at Shang.

“Holy shit, you got his location?”

“We got more than that, Shang. A little something you’d like to know--he’s not just minorly involved with the assassin. He’s her _accomplice_. Right-hand-man. Deputy, for God’s sake!”

Li Shang almost choked. The weight of the situation was making him sweat, and he didn’t know exactly how to reply.

“Anyways,” Mulan continued, “turns out he’s been holed up in an offshore-owned mansion in the Old Quarter. Georgian style, 30 acres of property, good shit indeed. Seems to make sense where she’d live, anyway, given her extravagant style.”

“Holy _fuck_ , Mulan. Holy fuck. I, uh...I’ll be back with your payment within 24 hours, you can be sure of that!” He got up to leave, shivering from boyish excitement.

She winced slightly, the first tinge of vulnerability Li Shang had seen her in almost 15 years. “Hey, Shang?” 

“Yeah?”

Mulan remembered flashes of the woman named Maleficent, the woman with the brown hair and green eyes and her kiss of death. She tried to block out the image. “Just make sure, this, uh...doesn’t come back to me, please.”

“Of course not, Mulan. You know I--”

“Or you’re dead.”

“Got it.”

“Now, do your job, idiot.” She smiled, if a little sadly. “Go get him, tiger.”

*****  
Stefan Irons, a shackled man. Or so he felt. Up until now.

They’d find her, he was sure of it!

Li Shang had come and told him only an hour before--his news with some girl he’d known before had led him to an interesting discovery Shang, the cunning bastard, had wormed his way into the underground black market slash real life darkweb of the city to find the True Love’s Kisser’s whereabouts. Well, Stefan was relatively confident, at least. He’d gone off only a tip, but Stefan had a sinking yet elated feeling in his gut that he was definitely on to something.

He lit a cigarette, his rough fingertips grazing the fluorescent lighter. _Fuck me. We’re so close._

Your time is over, Maleficent.

_Maleficent, Maleficent, Maleficent._

*******  
Li Shang drove calmly in his government-supplied Mercedes SUV to the Flynn Heritage Building, parked in his designated parking spot with ease, got out of his car, straightened his shirt, walked up to the elevator and pressed the elevator button for Irons Industries Ltd (the penthouse, obviously), strode down the hallway, pushed open the door, and pushed Philip Charming against the laser glass wall.

“Hey, uh...Shang? You okay?”

“Listen. I just...okay, some things happened today--things that I’d never expect. You’re the only one in this whole goddamn place I can trust.”

“Uh, alright. Shoot.”

“You won’t like it.”

“Probably not. I usually don’t, if you tell me.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, really. This is serious. Our jobs are at stake! Our lives, goddammit, Philip!”

“Fine.”

“I think...I think I’ve found the True Love’s Kisser.

“But I need you to help me catch her.”

********

Meanwhile, across the city, the tension in the air was so palpable you could slice it, glide through it, with a butter knife. It felt like a dream, albeit not one Aurora wanted to wake up from.

Then, quickly, almost calmly, the world exploded right in front of Aurora’s eyes. 

Everything happened so fast. Maleficent leaned over very slowly, eyes blazing so bright they looked like jewels. Aurora let out a tiny Oh, and then Maleficent took her chin, and kissed her.

_She kissed her._

It must have lasted less than three seconds, and yet it was so releasing, cathartic, amazing, and dazzling that Aurora felt like her head was going to implode on itself. She needed this. She never wanted it to end. _Oh, how it should have been like this all along._

She wanted to yell, scream, moan, _more, more, more, please, I beg you_ , but she did none of those things. Instead, she tightened her grip and let out a small wail, more of pleasure than of pain, but immediately Maleficent sensed her trepidation.

Then, the fireworks stopped, and Aurora felt Mal’s brow tighten and she pulled. WHen Aurora saw her eyes, they were full of fear. 

_Fear? Maleficent’s not afraid of anything. Is she?_

“I--I can’t--Oh, Aurora-- _I’m so sorry_.”

“Maleficent, you didn’t do anything wron--”

But the assassin stood up abruptly, making Aurora flinch. She began to exhibit extraordinary behaviour, wringing her hands, shaking her head, clenching her fists. “I’ve ruined everything, beastie.”

“No, Mal, you haven’t, please! I--”

“Aurora, don’t you _understand_? I can’t be like this. This is not me, I can’t... God, you’re so young, you’re fucking _seventeen_. It’s not right.”

“Sixteen is the age of consent, Mal.”

“Fuck, please stop. I don’t want to think of it that way! I just--”

“I liked it, Mal. I wanted it!”

“You like the _idea_ of it, Aurora. Of me. Do you realize who I am? I’m a fucking monster, Aurora! I kill people for a living! Of course you don’t like me.”

“That’s not true!”

“ _Yes it fucking is!_ ” Maleficent raised her voice, and suddenly Aurora’s eyes momentarily flashed, fearfully, back to the way things were before, and she gasped, just a tiny bit. She was afraid, and…

“Oh, God, stop. Please, Aurora, I--I can’t stand to see you like this. You’re fucking strong, and I’ve...turned you into _this_ , and...” 

“Mal! What the fuck? I’m not afraid! Please, I--”

“I’ve done so much wrong, Aurora.”

With that, the assassin bounded, pantheresque, quick as a gazelle, and ran off, leaving Aurora sobbing in the garden.

*********

Lavender’s blue, lavender’s green. If you marry me, we’ll both be Queens.

“Diaval! Diaval, Fuck! Help me, please, Diaval!” Aurora banged on his bedroom door as loud as she could. “ _Diaval_!”

The door opened, and the raven man quickly changed from groggy to wide-awake when he saw Aurora’s manic expression.

“What time is it? So early, it’s only…”

“Half past two in the afternoon, Diaval, for fuck’s sake!”

“Exactly, really early. What’s going on? Aurora, please...get ahold of yourself. I can’t help you unless you tell me, in words, what’s going on.”

In her clamour, Aurora blinked back tears and found the composure to speak, shakily. “ _Maleficent kissed me_.”

“Wait, hold on. What?”

“She kissed me! Well, I kissed her back--”

“What the fuck, Aurora?”

“No, Diaval, listen to me. I... _think I love her_.”

For a moment she looked so stricken, so tearful and pitiful, that Diaval recalled in the back of his mind a feeling he had often felt. It was the feeling of love. Unconditional, pure, true love. Because of this, he decided to put aside his mixed feelings and talk to her.

“She looked at me after she kissed me, Diaval, it broke my heart. Mal..she said that she made everything wrong, she looked at me like with such unspeakable pain--she ran away, Diaval! Fuck...she ran away from me.”

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know!” A fresh sob found its way out of the blonde’s throat. “She just ran off. I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself, Diaval. I haven’t communicated my feelings well enough--she thinks I hate her, I think. I don’t. I really, really really don’t, I want to see her again--”

“Calm down, Aurora. She won’t hurt herself. She knows what she’s doing.” He reached over and embraced Aurora tightly, rocking her back and forth.

“How do you know?” 

“Because she wants to come back to you. She loves you too, Aurora.”

“She...what?”

_Oh, fuck._

"I mean actually don’t tell her that,” Diaval rushed, “because she will kill me for telling you that...uh..”

“Oh, Diaval.”

“Oh, Aurora. The path to love is rocky. Rarely smooth, in fact, if you ask me. But know this: you have done nothing wrong. Listen to yourself. Mal will be back soon. Just talk it out. It will be fine, I promise.”

“Talk?”

“Just talk it out.”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Diaval’s blood froze. 

“It’s her--it must be!” Aurora sprang up. “I’m going to tell her--”

“Aurora, don’t.” Diaval reached out to her but she was gone. “Aurora, she wouldn’t ring the doorbell in her own house--Aurora! I have a bad feeling about this!”

“Aurora!”

_“Aurora_!”

As she bounded down the stairs, she almost slipped with excitement. 

However, when she turned the wide brass handle and swung the door open, hearing Diaval call out behind her, she found not the woman she was looking for but an entirely different presence, one that made her stomach drop.

“ _Philip?_ ”


	22. Of Rain and Blood, Devil's Cocktails

Far off, in the rocky ravine that was a secret, inconspicuous artery out of the main city, a lanky, handsome man named Kuzco was cursing in the rain.

“Fuck this shit, man,” he complained, for the light drizzle that pelted them lightly before was turning into a strong downpour, much of which the dry ravine was having a tough time accommodating. “I should be at home with fuckin, like, hot cocoa or something.” He shuffled off a bulky backpack and opened the zipper. Inside, sticks of army-grade dynamite were filled to the brim. Kuzco’s eyes gleamed. “Although, who can resist the pull of this beautiful fire?”

Not far off, his business partner--an older man who nobody in the business really knew the name of, but due to his propensity for odd grunts and clumsiness, everybody nicknamed Kronk--unloaded three kilograms of thin steel wire from spools. Together, they made an odd pair, but they hadn’t been told much about the job they were to perform. Stefan Irons, the man in charge of their payroll, apparently was worried about the secret route being used for illegal trade deals and wanted to bomb it to close it off (“As I am a man of the people, I speak for all of us when I say that we don’t want any illegal corporations doing their business here, boys” the handwritten letter from Irons detailed--he was far too high up to speak to them personally). Why he had picked one of the rainiest days in the rainy season, Kuzco and Kronk had no idea, but Kuzco proclaimed himself to be the finest expert in pyrotechnics across the area, and so who was he to complain about good money?

As they worked swiftly, looping sticks of dynamite through knots in the wire, Kuzco couldn’t shake a bad feeling that something was not quite right. When he voiced his concerns, however, Kronk shrugged amicably.

“Hey man, don’t sweat it. We’re demo experts, that’s why they fuckin’ called us, we’re no killers. If Irons wanted to do some dastardly shit, Kuzco, he’d have hired people a lot more fuckin’ trained than us, ha!”

“I hope you’re right.”

******************

Maleficent ran until she couldn’t, not because she physically couldn’t but because she felt an overwhelming wave of anxiety, sadness, and self-rage (among other, innumerable things) stopping her and filling her lungs so that she couldn’t even _breathe._

_Why must things always turn out badly, in the end?_ She asked herself, silently. She was tempted to ask why must bad things come to good people, but then she realized how foolish that was, because she was most certainly not a good person.

And above all, God, she still felt the same twang of hunger--lust, even--for Aurora, of whom she probably destroyed her emotions. How was a normal teenager supposed to act in those twisted circumstances, let alone someone like Aurora, who had endured such a torturous childhood? Still, every night, she dreamed. Oh, how she dreamed of the girl--running her hands down those milky thighs, through that golden hair, the little _Oh, Ohs_...it hadn’t happened, and it never would, and Maleficent tore herself up inside every day because of it. She wasn’t religious in the least, having abandoned any God she may have believed in when she got her scars, but she was pretty sure she’d go to hell for thinking of Aurora in that craving way.

She stopped and blinked a few times, surveying her surroundings. She’d run far this time, to a neck of the woods she couldn’t recognize, although she estimated it was about five kilometres upstream. Birds sang sorrowfully in the maple trees above, and it had begun to rain lightly, though the sky seemed more ominously dark than necessary for the drizzle.

_Calm yourself down. There’s no need to be acting this way._

Meanwhile, she wanted to wring Diaval’s neck, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. She knew he’d probably snitch and tell Aurora, out of justice and pure morality. As her breathing steadied, she told herself, over and over, that everything was going to be fine. She’d walk back over to the mansion, collecting her composure fully along the way, and--

A general rumbling occurred. Maleficent looked over and saw not one, but many black, heavily beefed-up army SUVs. They were driving all in a single file line, ominously, carefully. They also were driving the exact route to the mansion that Maleficent always took home. 

In this moment, Maleficent realized something, something that pertained not only to the moment at hand, but also the sphere of her entire being. 

In that one, knowing glance, Maleficent realized she had lost. 

_Oh, fuck._  
**********************

Things were very uncomfortable. Aurora had screamed bloody murder, screamed so loud and so forcefully, and didn’t stop for nigh ten minutes, that her assailants had to put duct tape over her mouth. How comical. She would sigh if she could have, although given the duct tape, that was ironically impossible. Philip had proved too ineffectual to handle Aurora, him being her fiancée and all, and so he had (rather weakly, she thought furiously) handed her off to some unnamed men, dressed in black and with dark green ski masks over their faces, likely a bunch of poor souls Stefan had roped into doing something horrible so he wouldn’t have to get his hands bloody. 

Here’s what had gone down: at the exact moment Philip had said Aurora’s name in disbelief and she his, Diaval had known something was very wrong. And so what he did was run. He ran out of sight of Philip, up to the back gate, out to the garden, across the muddy lawn, and out to the woods out back. He did this because he knew that he needed to find Maleficent. Him finding the assassin was Aurora’s only hope of making it out of the clutches of Irons’ minions.

Meanwhile, before Aurora could react a large, muscled Asian man, maybe ten years older than her, burst in behind Philip, grabbed her, and slung her over his shoulder.

“No time to explain, Philip!” The man had yelled, while Aurora fought and kicked and screamed, all to no avail. 

She bit down hard on her captor’s arm, and surprisingly, he let go with a “ _Bitch!_ ” and she fell to the ground and scrambled up, running for her life. However, she made it maybe 5 metres across the lawn before the man caught up to her and grabbed her, binding her arms and legs before she could even blink. 

“Here’s the thing, sugar,” he hissed. “The more you try to resist, the meaner we’ll be.”

Aurora spat but said nothing. The man then sighed, and bound her mouth with duct tape, then waved his hand in the air. “Search the house, team!”

To Aurora’s horror, around ten S.W.A.T. operatives swarmed into the mansion, their dark uniforms giving them an otherworldly, ominous air. The outside rain had gotten so intense it was churning their lawn up into a boggy mass. The man, still crouched beside her, ripped off her duct tape harshly. “Well, Aurora Irons, you must be surprised to see us here. I assume you know why we’ve come.”

“Well, I sure as hell know it’s not because my dad misses me.”

The man laughed. “You’re not as dumb as you look. Well, my name’s Li Shang. I thought we might as well acquaint ourselves, as you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together.”

“Great to meet you.” Aurora felt numb.

“Now, where is the assassin?”

Her mind blanked. “What are you talking about?”

Suddenly, he cracked her across the head, and her vision flashed. The pain came a few seconds later, a rawness that seemed to seep from her temples into the rest of her body like poison. “Don’t play dumb with me, please, Aurora. You and I both know we’re not going to go very far if you’re difficult for us.”

Suddenly, one of the men came out of the house, cheeks flushed. “Shang, we couldn’t find her, or Corbeau. The house is empty.”

The man who called himself Li Shang stood up, and looked up to the sky briefly, as if to gather patience. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” 

“No, sir, I--”

“No, you, listen, sir. Do you take me for a _fucking_ dimwit? We didn’t come all the fucking way here to have her lost again! You’re supposed to do your _fucking job, Pluto_!” He looked down at Aurora and clenched his fists. “I’m giving you one last chance to--”

“-- _stop_ , Shang.” it was Philip, who reached out and gripped Shang’s forearm. “For fuck’s sake, man, I’ll take care of it.”

Shang huffed and sauntered off as the SWAT team members began to slowly file out of the house. Philip crouched down and looked at Aurora, not saying anything, not meeting her eyes.

“Philip…” she began. “How _could_ you?”

“For fuck’s sake Aurora, you know why I have to do this shit. No one, least of all me, thought it would come to this. I wanted to get you back. Start our life together again. I thought…i just thought I had a handle on everything, that I could balance everything on this twisted scale of justice, and now…”

“You thought I’d be happy to see you. And I am, Phil, but it’s just so complicated--”

“What, this?” He stood up. “Do you have any idea how many nights of sleep I lost over you? Thinking that you had been hurt by that...beast...or worse--I poured all my resources into you, Aurora, you of all people should know that! Your father wanted the assassin, but my motives were clear! I just wanted to get you back! And now, now you’ve just been hiding out? You’ve got some...some _fucking_ Stockholm Syndrome thing going on?”

“Philip, please, don’t start--”

“No, Aurora, I’m going to start. Listen, I love you, but I’ve realized a lot of things along the way. I’ve been a loyal guy, much to my detriment. There are things I’ve discovered about myself, and others, that I’d have never thought possible. But the one thing that never changed? I never gave up my search for you. Even when I realized,” at this he looked, glanced at the sky. “...when I realized we probably couldn’t end up together, in the end, that too many things had changed. I still hold tenderness for you, Rora. I don’t understand why the fuck you...you’re…”

“You don’t understand, Philip! Yes,” Aurora started crying softly, her head still throbbing. “I was scared at first, scared shitless, you have no idea. But...Phil, she could have killed me. But she kept me alive. There’s more to her than just--”

“What, just the demented, twisted, homicidal maniac surface? You’ve gotten to be fucking joking, Aurora. She held you captive! For almost a fucking year!”

“I know it seems that way. But, I know it sounds crazy--Philip, I chose to stay. She..Maleficent--”

“Wow, you’re on a first-name basis? Congratu-fucking-lations.”

“--everyone’s been brainwashed by my dad at how bad she is, Philip. Even you. Even me, at first, I realized. She only kills criminals! Rapists, molesters, really, really bad people, not innocents like Stefan would have you believe! She’s--”

“What, she’s not all bad?” Philip scoffed. “Y’know, in the back of my mind, even though I knew it wasn’t really possible, I had hoped that, once we found you--if we found you--you’d still be the same. Unchanged. Like the Aurora I knew before.”

“The innocent Aurora. Naïve Aurora. That’s impossible.”

“Yeah, and that’s what I thought too. Because guess what, Aurora? Real life happens, and it robs you of everything you hold dear, and leaves you bare, naked, shivering towards the elements. Real life shakes your foundation, gives you fucking whiplash.”

“If only you could understand, Philip.”

He shook his head, and walked off in the rain, motioning for one of the goons to pick her up. Just before he got out of earshot, he turned back.

“Fuck you, Aurora.”

So. There it was. She’d kicked, and cried, and yelled, and felt like it was the end of the world as she knew it. Well, at least they’d kept her eyes clear, but she was in the trunk of the car, looking at the roof, so she could only see slivers of the grey sky as it whizzed past. 

In the backseat of the car, Li Shang spat into his cellphone. 

“Okay, man, just calm down...we’ve got the girl and her accomplice, but no Maleficent...no, you listen, you dumb fuck, the plan is perfect. We don’t need Maleficent, this is even better…”

He lowered his voice, and Aurora heard the words _trap_ and _dynamite_ and she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. She wanted to know everything was going to be okay, that this was all going to be a terrible dream. 

Shang leaned back to look at her from the trunk. “I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you earlier, Aurora Irons,” he grinned. “do you know how happy I am to have you here?”

“ _Go to hell_!” She seethed.

“Ah, ah, ah…” He reached down and patted her head. “No, Aurora, I thought at first that, when we got you and Raven Boy here, all was lost. Can you believe that the one moment we catch you, the True Love’s Kisser is actually not at home? Bad stroke of luck, my friend--until it wasn’t! See, the thing is, you’re going to help us find her. Because, on that fateful night almost a year ago, she meant to kill your father, but she didn’t. No, she stole you. You’re her bargaining chip! She wouldn’t have taken you if you didn’t mean anything for her campaign against Irons. So, for whatever reason, she’ll be looking for you. And that, Aurora, will lead her to us.”

“Never, you fuckface. I will never--”

“Ah, no, that proves my point, exactly! See, Philip tipped me a hint that you had gotten kinda, uh, crazy fuckin’ lovesick during your little forced sojourn, chez Mademoiselle Murderess. I thought, that’s impossible! No one could ever develop a twisted sorta affection with that monster--”

Aurora took a deep breath. “Don’t call her a monster. You people are the monsters, I swear to God, I’ll fucking--”

She was interrupted by him laughing. “You are _so_ precious. Well, anyway, think what you want. The plan’s set in stone. 

“All we have to do, now, is wait.”


	23. Interlude: Malora Mix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI everyone! Due to the overwhelming support from commenters and kudos-givers these past few months (and the fact that my exams are all over), I'm working away on finishing (sob, I know) this behemoth of a fanfic and new chapters will be out soon! In the meantime, I've been cultivating a Maleficent/Aurora playlist for you all to enjoy.
> 
> These songs are meant to represent the fic so far, complete with all the love-hate lines, cutesy moments, unrequited feelings, and general angst angst angst for daysssss expressed between the two. Hope y'all enjoy.

Daniel Casear - Won’t Live Here  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tBbO25wPWek

London Grammar - If You Wait  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SW9W1VMysgg

Broods - Coattails  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_rNsodyWqPY

Little dragon - Twice  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TrpMncSZe-I

Clairo - Bubblegum  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHVLqIm-S2I

Cosmo Pyke - Wish You Were Gone  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrSBwbLRzuQ

Agnes Obel - Fuel to Fire  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hqZGvkF00DI

Gorillaz- Crystalized  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fz4oFqqc9LQ

Devendra Banheart - Für Hildegard von Bingen  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gqGUM1TrJgk

Adele - I Can’t Make You Love Me  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vfj-peP6a7o

Mystery Jets - Someone Purer  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPBJPCaeda0

Daniel Caesar - We Find Love  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3GKxnBDu2g


	24. Of Iron, and Irons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhhhhh shit you guys, i realized I've been working on this fic for like 4 goddamn years lol so it's time for me to get a move on. funnily enough I still ship Malora so freaking hard you cant even imagine!! Love you all!! thanks for the kudos!!! bless

Maleficent had not been in this much anguish since the fateful day over a decade ago that wracked her very soul and changed her person forever. 

This situation was, in a way, much worse, because she couldn’t just try to cope and move on. She couldn’t shut herself inside those emotional walls, like a treasure chest kept inside her ribcage, never to be opened again for fear they’d be ripped to shreds, as they were now. 

When she arrived back, she knew the worst had happened, and she was woefully proven right. The house lay empty, the doors lying wide open. It had obviously been searched, and a few of the windows were broken, their frames like gaping mouths in a sea of darkness. The lawn had been torn up by foot movement, the damp grass largely gone, and only dull mud remained. The feeling of emptiness that overwhelmed her threatened to knock Maleficent to her knees, and for the first time since she could remember, she was scared. Scared. 

Walking through the house served only as a reminder of what had happened. Echoes of lives that could have been led snaked their way through the air, choking her as she wandered through the pilfered hallways aimlessly.

A noise far in the back caught her attention and she skulked to the kitchen. Diaval sat on the counter, sipping straight from the nozzle of a bottle of whiskey. She stared at him, not moving.

“Thought you’d never come back.” his voice was hollow, emotionless. “Maybe it would have been better.”

“Diaval, where’s Aur--”

“She’s gone.” He curled into a fetal position and began to shake, lightly. 

“What?”

“What do you think? She’s fucking _gone_ , Mal! They came! They fucking took her, and I--I took off. She’s just... _gone_.”

Maleficent reached over angrily but he put his hands up. “Go ahead! Hit me. Punch me or kick me. It won’t make any difference. I don’t care anymore.”

Almost imperceptibly, a small tear found its way out of the corner of her eye. “Diaval, how?” she asked, yet they both knew the answer.

_Stefan._

She wished it were all a bad dream. Slowly, she glanced to the heavens. If there were gods looking down, they’d certainly abandoned her long ago, left her to rot in a mortal world, her soul turning black and blacker and shrivelling up, like a twisted Prometheus. 

Her sadness turned around and around in her stomach until it formed a hard, miniscule ball of rage. Her fists clenched. Her temples pulsed. She, weirdly, felt more alive than she’d ever felt. 

_Now this is what rage should manifest itself as._

“Diaval, we’re going to get her back.”

The raven man choked. “What the fuck, Mal? We almost just died, now you want to throw us into the fire again, tempt fate? You don’t even have a plan!”

The assassin smiled. 

"Since when have I ever needed one?"

************

A hard, grey light. Aurora awakened on a chair, bound with hard plastic rope, duct tape. A pair of reflective metal handcuffs encircled her wrists like an angry grip, cutting her circulation. 

Gradually, her surroundings came to: She was in a pale beige room with a metal table, fluorescent lights stinging her eyes from overhead. There was a large black piece of glass, which she realized was a one-way mirror. 

It only occurred to her after what seemed like an eternity that there was someone else in the room across from her, sitting, patiently. _How long had they been there while she slept?_

“Hi, Dad.”

Stefan Irons smiled. “Aurora. I’m so glad to--”

“Shut up.” She felt like her senses were dulled, rubbed raw with steel. 

He continued smiling wanly. “Who ever thought we’d end up back like this, together?”

Aurora took a deep breath, shaky. Her lungs felt like they would collapse at any moment, and she felt dead inside. No--worse. She felt more alive than she’d ever been; her senses pulsing, her head clear--but empty. So, so fucking _empty_. She wondered if Maleficent was okay, and acknowledged it probably didn’t matter at this point. Everything was lost. 

“We were never really together, even when I lived with you. Isn’t that right, Dad?”

Stefan laughed gently. “My, my, I’m so glad you’ve grown a...spine! Your little _sojourn_ with the assassin really did wonders for your confidence, my dear. I used to be afraid that whenever I talked to you, you were just so fragile that you’d cry, or break apart. Now, we can finally have a mature conversation. A conversation between two equals!”

“We were never equals. You are so beneath even the lowest human that you and I could never be on the same level. Even me, with all my...fucking defects...I’m the worst of pond scum, and you, father, are far below me.”

Stefan sighed. “Now, now. What other response could I possibly expect from such an easily-influenced child? Of course she brainwashed you. Do you have any idea how much time, how much _effort_ I spent to get you back?”

“You and I both know that isn’t your ulterior motive, Dad,” Aurora scoffed. “Let’s not lie to each other. Malefice--”

She was cut short by a sharp pain in her wrists, something that felt like they were sawing into her, jolting her. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Aurora screamed out loud; she felt as though her soul was being ripped to shreds, and tears started streaming down her face. She looked up to see her father gripping a remote control in his hand, his finger gently off the trigger. He was shaking, almost imperceptibly, in anger.

“Don’t you ever say that name!” Stefan spoke sharply, his fists clenching. “I cannot fucking believe it. My youngest daughter...dead. You may as well be dead too, you’re so far gone. I can’t abide having you show such disrespect.”

Once the stars cleared from her vision, Aurora leaned over and vomited. “ _You’re a monster_.”

Stefan simply smiled wanly again. “You’re a monster’s daughter, then. Maybe the genes run in you, as well. I’m a simple businessman who knows what he wants, that’s all.”

“Why did you bring me in for questioning? Why not just kill me, if you’re going to be that cruel?”

“I’m offended! You think it wasn’t just to have a little visit with my dear daughter? I’ve missed you, you know. How long has it been, a year? More?”

“The feelings are…” she hacked up a cough. “Hardly mutual.”

He laughed. “I suspected as much. I may be guilty of many things, my love, but killing a family member isn’t one of them. I suppose only you can take that title, dear.”

“You know it wasn’t my fa--”

“Yes, yes, well, enough with the false pretences, darling. Like I said, you’re a monster too. If you are as innocent as you goddamn think you are, maybe Meg would still be here today, we both know that.”

Aurora felt the empty, dead feeling inside of her grow. She was beginning to miss the pain; at least it took her mind off her fucking miserable existence. 

Her father continued as though she were a mute. “Anyways, Aurora, no hard feelings, right? Family has to do what family has to do, and you’re my family, no one else. You’re all I have. Don’t you see? I’m not the bad guy here. Your friend, there...she is a killer! Murders people in cold blood for money…”

“She was like that because of you.”

“I don’t know what lies she’s told you, darling. But don’t believe them. I’m your own flesh and blood.”

“So the whole infanticide thing doesn’t attract you anymore, I’m guessing?”

“Oh, shush. I wanted to talk to you personally. Not just because you are my daughter, but to ask some...questions, as I’m sure you can certainly imagine.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“Of course you’re not.” He pressed the trigger. Aurora felt the dull sting in her wrists grow stronger and stronger until it was on full blast, and she screamed in agony again. He lifted his finger, and Aurora gasped, the pain momentarily gone but her body not yet recovered.

“My dear,” he began. “You’ve been more helpful to me than you could have ever imagined. Simply put, your refusal to cooperate means you’ve formed a...bond with the assassin. A connection.”

She spat. “And?”

“Well, it means the assassin probably values you. Highly, I mean, if she hasn’t killed you yet, if she’s been keeping you alive, if she’s been brainwashing you? Yes, this is all working out!”

“You’ll never get her, Dad. She’s so much smarter than anyone in this goddamn city. I can guarantee you she’s already left the city, assumed a new identity--”

“Ah, ah, ah, I thought you were the one who said we weren’t going to lie to each other.”

Aurora sat, silent, her stomach dropping. She knew it was true, and she hated herself for it.

“Aurora, the True Love’s Kisser isn’t gone. You know that. No...she’s waiting. For you. For me. She obviously needs you. For what, I don’t know...but she needs you, dear. She’ll do whatever it takes to get you back. You’re a goddamn bargaining chip.” He spoke softly.

“You’re a liar.”

“Come on, Aurora. You know it’s true.” He reached out and gripped her forearm resting on the table, and she flinched. The hair on the nape of her neck stood on edge. “She’ll follow you. She needs you, just like you need her. I can see it in your eyes.”

He stood up suddenly, and motioned to whoever was standing behind the opaque black glass, a turning hand, emotionless and cold. Time to go.

“I’m never going to help you,” Aurora breathed, heavily and with fervor. “You sick fuck!”

Stefan turned to her and rested his hand on her cheek. “Aurora,” he began softly.

“You already have, darling.”

A crack, then; Aurora did not know if the punch came from her dad or someone else, one of his cronies, or a henchman, but she did feel the hit on the side of her skull so hard she knew at once she was going to pass out from the pain. She felt the warm embrace of unconsciousness envelop her, and the metallic taste of blood trickle down her throat, and she fell into a sleep so deep, it was almost death. 

_Maleficent, Maleficent, Maleficent._


	25. Songs of the Summer (R&B/Rap Version)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no guys you don't understand. i have so much energy all of a sudden writing this fic. i feel on top of the world, thx to all of your support! the story is heating up, folks. heating, i tell ya. 
> 
> ANYWAYS there's a new chapter coming out very soon, very very soon, but I wanted to give you another treat while you're waiting, and that is another playlist, this one full of smouldering, simmering, sexy summer times. I like to imagine these songs are what each character thinks about when they are horny. 
> 
> yikes ok too much for me. talk soon, xoxo

_All the characters’ “Songs of the Summer” (R &B/Rap) _

Maleficent: “Summer Bummer” - Lana Del Rey   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AcVQJJoD45w

Aurora: “Instinct” - Roy Wood$  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qlbQx1exK1M

Diaval: “Water” - Dumbfoundead  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fm6QujrP4s

Philip: “Love$ick” - Mura Masa  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0YaO-Km3vM

Stefan: “Untitled” Isaiah Rashad ft. Goldlink   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yBYUijFLDBk&list=PLfDXjeYBaTyRRGqfH2r-YUeFmH8o72NH6&index=334

Li Shang - “Paradise” - Daniel Caesar  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34WmYkwSGtk&list=PLfDXjeYBaTyRRGqfH2r-YUeFmH8o72NH6&index=359

Mulan: “Kalifornia” - Mos Def  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VL_b6ydkHaU


	26. Of Wantings and Lamentations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: thoughts of suicide

Aurora died a thousand deaths and was given life for a thousand more. 

In retrospect, she figured it must have been some morphine-like or otherwise opiate substance they gave her to lull her into submission and thus giving her a lifetime’s worth of vivid dreams; at the time, however, they felt so tangible that she could have sworn on whatever shred of honour she had left that she was never going to wake up. 

There were the bad ones, of course: losing Meg all over again, and each time Aurora could hear her cries as she slipped and fell into the pond, yet each time Aurora tried to scream, her own lungs filled up with fluid and she could only watch helplessly as Meg’s sorrowful face slipped beneath the surface of the water. There were others, too. Under a bloodless sky, in a familiar sort of corn field, Maleficent sat, inviting Aurora. Beckoning her to come and stay with her for a ruthless eternity, until she grew fangs and wings and tore into Aurora’s soul, killing her again and again.

In some dreams, Aurora even saw herself as a normal girl in a normal life. Where none of this had ever happened. Stefan was a present father figure in her life. Meg was alive. Maleficent was but a distant memory. In a way, these ones scared her the most, deep down, more than she would’ve liked to admit. 

These nightmares were balanced out with long, blank stretches; dream plateaus, if you will. Aurora could feel her own unconsciousness but was powerless to do anything about it. It was in these moments that her hunger for the assassin to be by her side were the strongest. She vaguely remembered writhing in the inky-black limbo world of dreams, her hands longing for Maleficent’s touch but never quite reaching there. It was a confusing sort of desire that that left Aurora’s head reeling, but those kinds of dreams made it ultimately all the more harder to wake up to the cold face of reality.

Somewhere, in the infinite void, Aurora felt a tug, a pull back to the cruel place that was her prison cell, and slowly, she began to revive herself. As she came back into consciousness, her brain struggled to unfog itself but one thought stood clear, alone, and unyielding in her mind:

_This is the beginning of the end._

*****************

Business was going along as usual in Fa Mulan’s basement empire. The woman herself was sitting at the grand oak table in the back room, thumbing through stacks of bills and counting them meticulously. In the front room, her employees blissfully enjoyed their day off with opium, for the moment utterly slaves to their pipes.

In the moment right before a tsunami, the tide rolls all the way out, leaving a swath of fresh, soft sand underneath that people flock to. Then, a huge, chaotic, violent wave comes back in, crushing those who dared to imagine they might have a moment of pure peace otherwise.

Mulan felt the calm, the serenity, but only for a moment. Quick as a flash of lightning, an immense pressure came at her from behind, and she found her head and neck locked tight in a vice grip. She opened her mouth to scream but as she began, two fingers found their way down her windpipe and she could only let out a mangled gargle. The hand clapped over her mouth and a low voice whispered into her ear.

“ _Say a word and you die_.”

To her surprise, Mulan found a laugh bubbling its way up her throat. 

“You think I’m afraid of death?”

Whoever was behind her gave Mulan a rough, sudden flip, so her body shifted onto the edge of the table. The extra weight then jerked on of the table legs, and Mulan found herself--and the oak table--crashed on the ground. Mulan gasped, momentarily winded, as hundred-dollar-bills floated down around her, and she stared into the eyes of someone who looked very, very familiar. They smiled, without much warmth, flashing a row of shining white teeth, the canines sharp like fangs.

“Fa Mulan, we meet again,” Maleficent cooed softly. “I hope we didn’t get too far off on the wrong foot. Although you did fucking sell me out, so I suppose my feelings towards you are not--how shall I put it-- _kind_ , at the moment.”

She rested her foot lightly, with a touch of menace, in the middle of Mulan’s chest. Mulan sighed.

“Yes, I gave your location away, not going to lie. But how am I to blame? I was offered millions of dollars--you’d have done the same in my position. I’m just playing the game, same as you.”

“Oh, of course I understand that, it’s not personal,” the assassin hummed. “I’m more upset at myself that I didn’t see it coming, didn’t cover my bases more. I’ve gotten too relaxed, you see.”

“Like I said, part of the game.”

“However, Fa Mulan,” Maleficent continued. “You’ve caused me a lot--and when I say a lot, I mean a whole fucking lot--of needless pain in my life. For that alone, I should kill you. But, I realized that I still have to make an offer to you. An offer you can’t refuse.”

“And that is?”  
The assassin grinned. “Well, if you help me, I’ll let you live. If not, I’ll kill you. Not much more to it.”

Mulan grew uneasy. “If you kill me, my men will come after you immediately. You’ll die, too.”

“You mean those poor fools in the front den fucked out of their minds?” Maleficent scoffed. “Yeah, they’re dead. I’ve stacked their bodies by the incinerator down below. Thought I’d let you do the honours.” She cracked her knuckles.

“You sick fuck! Those were my best men!”

“Ah, ah, ah, Mulan. You and I both know that I’m not sick--I’m just doing my job. Which is, you know, technically killing people. And as for your “best” men, they were surprisingly easy to take out.” Maleficent winked. “Or maybe I’m just good.”

“Eh,” Mulan said, frowning. “Apart from an uncle or two, they’re pretty disposable. I’m still pissed, though. Bitch.”

“Whatever. In any case, I know about you and that Li Shang bastard,” Maleficent went on, raising one eyebrow when she felt Mulan’s chest raise in a soft oh. “Or whatever twisted fucking relationship...friendship...I don’t really care what it is. There’s that--what’s, the word, collateral? Ah, yes.”

“You’d never find him.”

“Mulan, you’re not the only one with secrets in this fucking city. You see, I could just find my way to him and kill him, yes...but that would be too easy. See, you’re unfeeling. You could move on from that. But if I kill you...well, then, Li Shang would be crushed. Despaired. Suicidal. I know these kinds of things, Mulan, I really do. I may be cold-blooded, but I’m not fucking with you on this one. And I also know that, heartless as you are, even you couldn’t do that to Shang. You couldn’t.”

Mulan paused. For what seemed like an eternity, they both existed therein a state of momentary suspension. Mulan on top of a pile of smooth bills, and Maleficent with her leather boot perched neatly on Mulan’s ribcage, head cocked to one side. Finally, Mulan allowed a small smile to worm its way to the side of her face. 

_Fuck it. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em._

“Check.”

“Mate,” Maleficent replied smugly. “Now, here’s what I need you to do.”

************************

Aurora stared at her surroundings with a mounting feeling that could be described as something like pure, unadulterated rage. 

She was in a cellar or broom closet of some sort, no doubt somewhere deep underground; a dull, industrial shithole that was devoid of any notable decoration. Four walls enclosed her claustrophobically; it was clear someone had hastily cleared everything out before she arrived, leaving an empty dustpan and some suspect stains on the walls. Three ugly steel chairs were stacked on one side.

Aurora herself was bound with duct tape that hurt the hairs on her wrists, and she looked helplessly at the heavy metal door in front of her that barred access to the outside. Regrettably, there was no latch for prisoner food.

She waited alone with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her for about four hours. Her own twisted, oppressive thoughts. She thought briefly about smashing her own head on one of the steel chairs, dunking it in the toilet bowl until fluid filled her lungs with an unbelievable force. Maybe then she’d have known a fraction of the pain Meg endured. She thought about how much anger it would give her father to have both his daughters dead--not sadness, but anger.

_Figures._

Aurora also felt an immense weight on top of her. She knew deep down, in the darkest recesses of her soul, that Maleficent would come for her. It was just a gut feeling, nothing more, but she’d learned to trust her instincts. In this case, it gave her an immense wave of guilt. As much as she’d tried to convince herself that no, the assassin would stay loyal to her job, her values, even her own safety and well-being, Aurora knew something had changed inside of Maleficent as well. Something else, something foreign to Maleficent’s character entirely, and Aurora knew the assassin wasn’t going to let such a change sit idle. 

Aurora didn’t know if Maleficent still held her in high regard or not, but she realized the assassin needed her. Whether it was for personal reasons, or the fact that Maleficent probably still considered her a valuable pawn in the fight against Stefan and wasn’t about to lose face over it, Aurora knew Maleficent. She knew Mal would stop at nothing to get her way.

Unfortunately, what was in her way at the moment was Aurora’s absence. 

_Which means, in a way, I’m to blame for all this. If I hadn’t gotten my scrawny ass fucking kidnapped, none of this would have happened._

A sickening thought suddenly swelled in Aurora’s brain. 

_Mal’s not going to make it if she comes after me._

She felt a deep hatred for her own despicable self, and more helplessness than she’d ever felt before. Maleficent was the smartest person she knew and her her coming after Aurora was one of the dumbest things she could possibly imagine.

_It’s not that Mal couldn’t have taken all of Dad’s men out plus Dad, but he’s expecting her. It’s a trap, and he’s set it. Does she even know? Suspect anything?_

Aurora hoped to whatever deity was keeping her alive that Maleficent wouldn’t throw away her life, wouldn’t be dumb enough to go after her. She hoped and hoped, and all her wishing left her palms bleeding from digging nails and hurting gums from gritted teeth. 

She knew it still wouldn’t be enough.


	27. The Final Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, Stefan is in the process of escorting his daughter to a land far, far away. Meanwhile, Maleficent and Diaval prepare for the worst and hope for the best, and Mulan summons a surprise visitor. The second-to-last chapter of An Assassin's Heart Never Wavers. Aka, lots of action.

Maleficent knew that going back to the mansion would likely get her captured (the place was positively crawling with Stefan’s spies), so she texted Diaval to meet her at their other safe house, a private parking garage on the other side of town. Thank God she still had her car.

“Remind me again, why I’ve stuck with your crazy ass all these years,” Diaval pondered aloud as he opened the gates, revealing a dimly-lit industrial space. Rows and rows of boxes and crates lines the ground and stacked against the walls and were packed with every spech of gear from shuriken stars and hidden knife boots, to a dusty old Yamaha motorbike. 

Maleficent sighed. “Purely for the joy of my company, I presume.”

“What did Mulan end up saying? Did she even want to help?”

“Want to? Fuck no, she didn’t want to. She did, though. That bastard is taking Aurora out of the city. Arendelle Parkway, the back route, so he’ll think we don’t know. He’s trying to be sneaky.” 

She walked up and down the garage, her hands skimming on the dusty surface of the boxes and crates.

“That’s all? That seems relatively simpl--”

“No, Diaval,” Maleficent grimaced. “He wants to take the back way because nobody’s expecting it. Mulan said that. Fuck, it’s so very... _Stefan_ of him. It’s almost like he knows I’ll follow him. Like it’d be too irresistible for me not to take him down there. It seems...too easy.”

“Well, of course it seems too easy, Mal, it is!” Diaval huffed. “Has your obsession with Aurora clouded your judgement? It’s a fuckin’ trap! Stefan knows you’re smart, and vicious too, he wouldn’t be that dense as to purposefully take an exit route where he knows he’s going to be hemmed in by cliffs on either side!”

The assassin said nothing. Diaval continued, rolling his eyes in exasperation. 

“The Arendelle Parkway is off by the old quarry, Mal, or have you forgotten? It’s one way. The cliffs, I might add, have been known to crumble on unsuspecting cars. No wonder no one ever goes there, it’s fucking _dangerous_ even on the best of days. For God’s sake, Mal, if Stefan is taking Aurora through there instead of the main highway, then he knows you’ll come after him.”

Maleficent slowly rubbed her fingers on her temples and exhaled slowly. “Diaval…”

“Wait.”

“Diaval.”

“Wait just a fucking minute, Mal! Don’t tell me you’re…” He trailed off, while the assassin shook her head silently.

“Mal! What the fuck, seriously? No. no. I’m not letting you go after Stefan, not this time. It’s a death trap! He’ll have you cornered like a mouse!”

Diaval was so agitated he was shaking slightly, pacing back and forth.

“Diaval…”

“I can’t let you die, Mal. Not after everything.” He shook his head, almost violently. 

The assassin stepped closer to him. Then, she did a curious thing: she took his hand and squeezed it tightly. Diaval looked up and could have sworn he saw wetness in Maleficent’s eyes, but blinked and the glimpse was gone. Still, when the assassin spoke he detected a deep, impenetrable layer of melancholy in her voice, something he had never seen a trace of in over a decade, not even when she talked about her past. It scared him. 

“Aurora….is worth _everything_ to me,” Maleficent said, so low it was a mere whisper. “I...cannot explain it. Even when I try to comprehend why I cherish her so, logic all but abandons me, Diaval. She was the one who, against all odds, taught me compassion. Taught me love.” She laughed mirthlessly. “Can you imagine that, Diaval? _Love_. I--I love her. Fuck, I _love_ her. And I suppose that alone is worth risking my life for. To get her back.”

In that moment, Diaval knew for certain that there was nothing in his power that he could do to change the assassin’s mind. Oddly, he thought of Philip: the sort-of traitor, sort-of hapless romantic who was just trying to be loyal to his job and got caught up in all this mess unwittingly, not unlike Maleficent herself. Not unlike Diaval. If Diaval saw him again, which he was pretty sure was unlikely, he’d have to give him a big kiss. As a thank-you, maybe. Or goodbye. 

Maleficent was still gripping his hand with an iron force and a look of intensity on her face. Diaval gripped back and smiled wanly. 

“Well....I can see you're going to be as stubborn as hell, Mal, so we may as well go for it.” He smiled and shrugged, as if to say, _fuck it all_. 

Maleficent looked into Diaval’s eyes, those piercing green daggers he had once feared and now respected with a familial love. She embraced him with more warmth than he’d seen in a long, long time. 

_Thank you._

Diaval straightened his back. “Well...what’s the plan, then?”  
Maleficent blinked, slightly regaining her composure to a cool, elegant smirk. “If Mulan’s not wrong, they’ll likely be on the trail before sunrise tomorrow, 5:30 or so. And I have a hunch Mulan’s not wrong.”

“And...then what? You wait for them and hope for the best?”

Maleficent got up and gravitated towards an unmarked black case. Opening it, she gestured to Diaval about the contents inside, namely five rows of military-grade firestarters, along with several quarter-sticks of dynamite. 

“Something like that.”

********************

Aurora was in the midst of dozing off again when she was roughly awoken by a loud bang and the sound of her doorknob scraping open. Immediately, she sprang to her feet, adrenaline forcefully pushing out the last vestiges of fatigue out of her brain. She stood behind the cot to offer a minimal barrier between herself and the intruder. Seeing the door open, however, Aurora was surprised to see two very nonthreatening men staring back at her; one was scrawny and had shifty, scheming eyes, while the other was larger and sported a rather dull look.

“Ms. Irons,” the smaller man began. “It’s time for us to collect you, as your father wishes your presence on his extended...ah...trip. Now, come along. Easily, please. We don’t take kindly to disobedience.”

Aurora looked at both of them disdainfully.

“You heard him,” the other one grunted. “Move it.”

Reluctantly, she walked out, while the scrawny man took her bicep and escorted her, akin to a gentleman at a gallant ball. 

_The feeling of going through life with nothing but the clothes on your back is a very odd one indeed._

Outside the cell, they found themselves in a dingy hallway with multiple twisting passageways off to the sides. Aurora figured it must have been the dead of night--even this far underground, she could only hear faint vehicle sounds, not the heavy bustle of traffic like she was used to. 

“What time is it?” She murmured, as they padded down the main hallway.

“4:47 A.M.,” the dull one said, but the scheming one glared at him. 

“Kronk, you fucking idiot, don’t tell her anything!”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He turned to Aurora. “We can’t give you any more information, on account of your being our prisoner and all. So, uh. Shut up.”

“Right,” Aurora mused. She had a thousand thoughts swirling in her brain. “You guys been at this a while then, I presume?”

“Nah,” Kronk responded thoughtfully. “Just a few weeks back. We--”

“Kronk! What did I fucking _say_?!”

_Do it._

“Ah, shit, sorry Kuzco. My mouth just gets away from me sometimes. Too friendly, I guess.”

_Now. Do it, now._

“Too friendly, my ass. Y’know, I’m not your babysitter.”

_Don’t wait._

“Yeah, I know--”

Aurora felt Kuzco’s grip relax slightly around her arm, and she made a split decision.

_Run._

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, stopped by the crushing weight of impending time surrounding it. Aurora wrenched her arm free of Kuzco’s grasp, and ran like hell down the main pathway, ducking as Kronk tried to grab her. She was surprised at her own speed for a split second, thinking _Maleficent taught me well_ as she ran, but the thought was banished from her mind as the desire to escape from this prisonlike rat hole obscured all but that thought. 

As the cries of Kuzco and Kronk got fainter and fainter as Aurora sprinted down the hallway, she took as many twists and turns as she could, hoping to disorient them and praying that none of the ways were dead ends.

Suddenly, Aurora felt her trip cut short as her foot twisted violently to one side, and she felt the immeasurable force of gravity pulling her face closer to the cement floor. Her hands still bound in duct tape, she had no way to stop herself, and fell, hard. She hit her nose on the cement and let out a cry as it began spurting blood. Almost immediately, the two men rounded the corner; Aurora scrambled to get to her feet and began to run, but Kuzco grabbed her ankle and again she fell to the ground, this time writhing in pain. 

Kronk immediately wrapped her ankles with tape, muttering something about it being a _pity they didn’t think of that beforehand_. He slung Aurora over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, thought it was a much less pleasant experience than when the assassin had done the same to Aurora, well over a year ago. 

“See Kronk, you dumb fuck, this is what happens when you run your mouth off,” Kuzco panted, tired from expending his energy on chasing down an unusually fast prisoner. “Shit happens!”

“I don’t think you’re all that friendly, either,” Aurora snapped, to which Kuzco laughed and proceeded to punch her in the arm.

“Ha! You’ve got a rather bleak sense of humour on you, eh, Ms. Irons?”

 _Strictly gallows_ , Aurora thought, choosing instead to focus on her nose that had steadily slowed to a drip, staining Kronk’s shirt a vibrant red.

“You’ve made it very difficult for us, Ms. Irons, I’ll give you that,” Kuzco continued, not giving her a second thought. “I mean who wouldn’t in your position? This place is pretty darn shitty. I agree. But for you, Ms. Irons, I’m pretty sure things are about to get a lot shittier.”

****************************************

Mulan gritted her teeth and drummed her fingers on the table furiously in anticipation. She’d smoked a little weed a few hours ago but felt her anxious reality already beginning to worm its way into her mellowed mood. It was just before five.

She didn’t sleep at all last night--while she’d thought of herself as a confident, stable personality, more than anyone else she knew, every now and again she’d be wracked with bouts of anxious episodes that left her reeling and plagued her with insomnia so bad she’d not sleep for days on end. Inevitably she always cracked after day five or so of no sleep and tried to kill one of her men, but supposed it was to be expected. She still fucking hated it, though. No one had known except her father.

Li Shang entered, startling Mulan. He was bleary-eyed, still nearing the end of his night shift with Stefan Irons’s company, and sporting an obviously confused look.

“You...uh...wanted to see me?” He inquired.

Mulan smiled curtly and took a deep inhale, then exhale. 

“Shang... I know I’ve been a bitch. A major, royally fucked-up bitch, and haven’t treated you with the respect someone of your stature should be treated with.”

“Wait, so you’re promoting me?” He mocked, smiling.

“Well, not exactly--I mean, sort of.”

“Come again?”

Mulan stood up in one slinky, fluid motion, walked across the back room floor, and kissed Li Shang on the lips. Aggressively.

Shocked out of his fatigue, Li Shang managed a quick “whuh--”, before his instincts got the better of him, and he swooped Mulan off her feet into an embrace, kissing her back with equally as much force. It seemed to last for an eternity and then some. When they finally pulled apart, they looked at each other silently, intensely, for a few seconds. Then, they both broke into outraged, happy laughter, speaking in tongues simultaneously.

“ _Fuck.”_

********************************

The pre-dawn fog was cold and creul, pricking little drops of moisture on Maleficent’s skin. She waited in a rock crevice at the top of the bluffs on the edge of the Arendelle Parkway, knives strapped to her arms, yet she felt strangely naked. She realized she was dressed in the exact same outfit she had worn the night she went out to kill Aurora. 

_Just like old times_ , she thought bitterly. The opposite couldn’t be more true. Ten years ago, she would have relished this feeling. Raw, unfiltered anticipation. Adrenaline. This act of taking life gave her a sense of purpose, of fulfillment. Nobility amongst the monsters that called themselves humanity. It alerted her to the possibility of her own life. That she wasn’t some victim, not like all those years ago; she was back for vengeance. That she wouldn’t take any bullshit from this fucked-up world. In a way, it had been almost therapeutic. Wait, no. That was too twisted. More like cathartic. Yes, cathartic. 

Oddly enough, Maleficent wasn’t scared now. She knew she had a very good chance of actually dying, given that she was vastly outnumbered, but she felt surprisingly calm. She knew that someone as inherently immoral and terrible as her likely deserved to die; the scales of justice weren’t exactly tipped in her favour. 

However, she was filled with regret. Regret that she might not have the chance to wring Stefan’s neck with her bare hands, depending on the bodyguards surrounding him. No--there would have to be more of a mass carnage in which he would perish. Maleficent knew that Stefan wouldn’t want to put all of his eggs in one basket and make himself more vulnerable by traveling in the same car as Aurora. No, they’d be traveling separately, which gave her more of a chance to catch Aurora. Kill Stefan, the man who’d started it all. Or so she hoped. 

Maleficent was feeling something akin to guilt, as far as where Aurora was concerned. She felt like an utter fool; she wished she hadn’t gone and royally fucked things up between them. Not like they had a chance for anything other than doom. She recognized that she never would have been able to form a lasting thing with Aurora, purely by nature of both of their precarious situations. And yet--Aurora still stayed. Stayed with Maleficent even months after, when she found out Maleficent’s true nature and stll had the freedom to go back to Philip. She stayed. There was something the assassin was missing--was Aurora just naïve, or was there something deeper at play?

In any case, Maleficent was serene about her possible impending death. She only hoped she would get to see Aurora, even a glimpse in a car window, if she couldn’t take her back fully. Before everything went to shit; before the world as she knew it would crumble. Quite literally, crumble. 

Not far off, she heard the sounds of cars approaching in the silent dawn.

**********************************

Apart from giving her minimal water for their entire car trip and playing abominable pop music on the radio, Aurora’s captors weren’t entirely heinous. She mercifully hadn’t been groped or assaulted in any sense of the word, and Kuzco and Kronk let her go without a blindfold--though she was still bound by her hands and knees. They figured it wouldn’t be worth causing her unnecessary distress by blocking her view of the Parkway vistas, it wasn’t like Aurora had any say in the matter anyway. 

So there she sat. Hungry and thirsty and exhausted and wanting to crawl into a hole and die. Kuzco sat next to her in the back seat, while Kronk sat shotgun. A dour man who called himself Jafar drove, not speaking, while the two other men bickered quietly. 

“I’m telling you, it’s not failsafe!” Kronk whispered angrily.

“And I’m saying, for the thousandth time, it is,” Kuzco shot back. “We set it ourselves...there’s no way someone could be in front of us. We have scouts. She’ll have to be behind us, and then it’ll be fine.”

“Suppose she’s not following us, though?”

“What?”

“Suppose she’s waiti--”

“Chill, dude. Just stop. It’s under fucking control.”

“Set what?” Aurora began to ask, but Kuzco cut her off. 

“Oh, no, you little monkey, we are not revealing any more shit to you. Nuh uh. Zip it.”

“You both are fucking idiots,” Jafar growled, the first thing he’d said since Aurora laid eyes on him. He was concentrating on the road ahead, where they were the second car in a line of too many to count. Aurora looked at the license plate ahead of her. It said _Irons_ , and she shuddered involuntarily.

Suddenly, the car ahead jerked to a stop, and Jafar slammed on the brakes, cursing, and sending all of his passengers jolting forward. 

“What the hell was that?” Kuzco asked irritably, when they rolled to a full stop. Jafar turned to him angrily and poked him in the chest. 

“Like hell I’m supposed to know! You’re the guy who set this whole fucking thing up! So don’t ask me!”

“I didn’t know we’d be stopping, though,” Kuzco protested, then pulled out his walkie and flipped to a channel, waiting for the static to clear. “Mr. Irons, we’ve run into something at the front. I’m going to try and talk to the guys up there to see what’s happening, but there shouldn’t be anything to be alarmed by.”

The line was silent for a moment, then Aurora heard the unmistakable delusional growl of her father.

“ _Well, get on with it, Kuzco. We shouldn’t be delayed any longer than we need to be.”_

“Copy that, sir.” _Click._

Jafar and Kuzco opened their doors and got out, hands on their belts, ready to draw their handguns at a moment’s notice. Kronk, meanwhile, looked back and forth, then also stepped out of the car. He gave Aurora a “leave-and-you’re-dead” stare, then walked onto the path ahead, both hands on his gun. 

They were stopped in a narrow valley with cliffs bordering either side, leaving less space than two cars abreast. Aurora pressed her forehead against the window glass, but could see nothing beyond the back of the Humvee in front of her. She could faintly hear angry murmurs, while the cars behind her sat waiting, silent like hulking black cats. Ready to pounce. 

Then, fire. Aurora wished she could have expressed the sentiment more eloquently, but all she felt was the intense, immediate now, the wall of red and orange, the smoke that suddenly choked her from within. 

Fire. The wall from the depths of hell. 

It was coming from in front of the line of cars, ten feet high and as wide as the road. Aurora felt a sense of mounting biological panic, as her body urged itself to get out of the car get out now. This was coupled with an eerie calm, like she felt clarity. Felt welcoming towards her demise. Kuzco came running back with Kronk, but Aurora glanced at them and barely noticed their presence. She somehow knew that Jafar was already dead, but couldn’t place quite how she knew. Kronk put his head in his hands as Kuzco spewed obscenities and started the car, trying to move it. Ahead, Aurora could make out faint shapes through the smoke, no doubt trying to put out the fire. 

“What the fuck was that?!” Kronk finally yelled, delayed as if by shock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Kuzco cried. “I just can’t deal with this shit right now. We need to get out of here.” 

“What?”

“We need to fucking get out of here!” Kuzco screeched, swerving the car past the Humvee. “The fire...it’s not ours. Not mine, I mean. It was set by someone else. I have fucking explosives everywhere, Kronk, and you know what that means? Flammable. Fucking explosives are flammable! It’s going to start a chain reaction. We’re all trapped here. She has us trapped.”

 _She_. Aurora felt the presence of some benevolent God overhead. Or maybe that God was Mal. 

Finally, Kuzco managed to pull the car around the unmoving first vehicle and through the road, but stopped short of the great wall of fire that lay some ten yards ahead. Like it was daring them to attempt to drive through. Its vivid tendrils of smoke reaching out to Aurora. 

She should have known, then, to duck and cover, to have listened to Kuzco in some way. When Maleficent’s fire set the first of Kuzco’s explosive traps off, it was far enough in front of them to not cause death, but the dynamite blasted an invisible force that blew their car to the side as if it were a toy, tearing through the air, stirring up wind and fire and earth. World’s worst temper tantrum of the elements. 

Their car went careening off to the side, hitting the lower rocks of the cliff ditch and an angle. Airbags went up on Kuzco and Kronk and they sputtered, shaked. Aurora, however, had no airbag, and banged her face on the front headrest, reopening her nose wound. _Shit._

Kuzco, by this point, had abandoned all pretense of keeping Aurora as his captive. He suddenly bolted from the car and ran away from the site of the blast, towards the back of the line of cars. He was screaming Stefan’s name, but in the commotion Aurora could see no trace of her father. Only the faceless, nameless men and women dressed in black, running about like ants who’ve had hot glue poured down their anthill. Kronk, meanwhile, had no inclination to stop Aurora as she crept out of the back door that had sprung open in the accident. She only nodded to hi, and climbed silently out of the car, while he stared at her with helpless eyes and remained still. 

Outside of the vehicle, Aurora was met with an intense blast of heat from the explosion, and her throat felt dry from the choking smoke that was forcing its way into her lungs. Filled with a fresh burst of adrenaline, she looked wildly around for shrapnel to cut the duct tape still binding her hands, and settled on the remnants of what appeared to be the back bumper of their car, which had been lodged loose. Freeing her hands, Aurora felt herself numbly bed down and pick up a rock to use as a weapon if anyone tried anything on her, though she doubted anyone would and doubted even more that she’d even be remotely competent. Ironically, the people whose sole jobs were to guard Aurora and kill Maleficent had failed to do both those specific things. Aurora looked around at the hellfire unfolding around her and felt as though she were on a movie set, observing. Watching from the outside, somehow. Her knees felt weak, but she resisted the urge to collapse and kneel, and instead looked for a low cliff edge she could scale to safety.

She walked, not ran, away from the fire. It was coming for her, she figured.

For all of them, eventually.

*************************

 _Aurora_. Maleficent’s heart wrenched when she saw the glimpse of blonde hair peek out of the second car, apparently unhurt except for what appeared to be a jet stream of blood snaking out of the girl’s nose. 

The plan had gone horribly awry, though not for the reasons she had so feverishly anticipated. Bombs? They had planted fucking _bombs_? It baffled Maleficent that they showed such little regard for their own puny lives while trying to take hers. What were they hoping to accomplish--just blow everybody, every car up, and hope she died in the process? Did they wish to confuse her in the smoke?

_I’ve seen a lot of fucking dumb things in my life but this may be the fucking dumbest. No doubt costing Stefan’s private sponsors millions._

In any case, it was Maleficent’s incredibly effective firestarters that had set the first one off, which both alerted them of her presence (Shit), and alerted her to the type of weapons they were trying to use against her. _Jesus Christ._

So now, she was officially fucked. Although to be fair, they all were: boxed in by cliffs, the wall of fire, and the explosives that God knows where they hid--and there were likely more to come. If there was anything Maleficent had learned in her years of high-level assassinations, it was that bombs rarely came solo. Chain reactions were much more, ahem, effective. 

Maleficent had moved from her original location to behind a boulder, lower down. She had to reach Aurora, fast--she didn’t have the slightest idea how she’d reach her, or what they’d even do, where they’d go. But she had to. She hopped down from her perch and ran across the road, torn up from dynamite and smokier than Mulan’s opium den. She sidestepped three bodies, crushed by falling cliff debris, and was instantly reminded of Diaval chiding her that the cliffs were precarious to the point of destruction. Were they made of limestone?

More bodies, everywhere she went. One lay on the steering wheel of a black Humvee that had been rammed into the back of another, a thin line of blood trickling down her temple. However, not everyone was deceased: more and more henchmen were beginning to notice her, and those that weren’t dazed or in shock started to run towards her, an action to which she responded by pulling out her handguns and shooting them in the legs. Oddly enough, she had a bitter taste in her mouth when she thought of causing unnecessary deaths. These people weren’t criminals; they were brainwashed by Stefan’s gloating promises of money, power, and glory. They died with people they loved waiting for them at home, with dogs and cats waiting to be fed for days. Friends missing them, birthdays gone unnoticed. Maleficent figured that by maiming them, she was simply buying more time. For herself or them, she didn’t know. 

As people fell and writhed in agony, Maleficent ran like the devil, and caught sight of Aurora walking-- _why was she walking?_ \--towards her, eyes in a daze. 

_Aurora, Aurora, Aurora._

She must have said it out loud, for Aurora snapped to attention as if roughly woken from a dream, and the two properly locked eyes. Oh, God. Maleficent missed her so much.

She started running towards the girl, but her attention shifted towards the finger that was now pointing at her. No, not at her. Where was she pointing? Behind--

Maleficent did not have time to fully turn around when she felt something hit her with a brute force in the small of her back, knocking her to the ground like she were nothing more than a small, wispy child. She struggled and gasped for air; behind her, Stefan stood, looking haggard and wild. In his hands, a gun, the barrel still smoking. Maleficent, winded, whipped out her own gun and pointed the barrel between his eyes.

“A bulletproof jacket, I see,” Stefan spoke, menacingly. “You haven’t changed.”

Maleficent said nothing, glowering at him. _Don’t give him the privilege of your words._

He continued. “It’s been so, so long since I’ve seen your face. I thought I wouldn’t recognize you, after all these years. That you’d be some distant, terrible memory, a scratch on my perfect, moral existence. But I was wrong. So, so wrong. See, I’d never forget you. I couldn’t.”

Maleficent growled, irritated and newly anxious.

“Fuck you, Stefan.” She pulled the trigger. 

And it was at this time that Maleficent realized a truth. A horrible, awful truth. _She was out of bullets._

Stefan simply laughed like a madman and continued to point his gun at the assassin. “Ah, ah, ah, Maleficent. You and I both know you can’t win this one. You--”

He was cut short by another blast, this one a bit farther away but still sending hordes of henchmen screaming. Stefan glanced away--no, not glanced, merely shifted his gaze to the corner of his eye, but this was enough for Maleficent to reach out, knocking the gun out of his hand and tackling him. Stefan was momentarily surprised, but instantaneously was back on her. Clawing at her arms, her hair, as they tussled like 5-year-olds in a sandpit. Maleficent knew she could have beaten Stefan easily under normal circumstances, but the angry bruise by the bullet beginning to form on her back slowed her down. Combined with the fact that Stefan possessed a sudden otherworldly strength--he’s obviously on too many drugs to count--Maleficent found herself getting angrier and angrier that she couldn’t directly kill him. 

However, somewhere, deep in the recesses of her brain, Maleficent knew she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t kill Stefan in fornt of his own daughter. It would be an act too abominable for words, even if Aurora so clearly wished her father dead. And yet: she had to. Given that Maleficent herself would die otherwise. A curious stalemate.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally managed to put Stefan in a chokehold. Kneeling there, her hands on his neck, watching his stupid face turn blue until he passed out. Or so she hoped. Maleficent couldn’t lie, it gave her immense pleasure to be violently hurting the person who made her like this. The monster she was. She knew, though, that it could not come even close to the horrors he’d inflicted on her. The atrocities. 

Rearing up, she felt her grip on his neck soften. How? She didn’t quite know. But she knew it was not the time to murder Stefan. That would end up reinforcing all the prejudice Stefan had indoctrinated in his cronies. That she was a monster. 

“Enough! This ends. Now.” she hissed, as Stefan coughed and coughed, face red, blood streaming out of both nostrils. Maleficent got up and dusted her knees off, leaving him watching her warily, and turned around to face Aurora. The girl had a face so full of admiration and sorrow that Maleficent bolted into a sprint to reach her, but she yelled out a cry of Maleficent’s name. The assassin whipped around for the second time, but she didn’t need to look much to see that Stefan was already on her, hands reaching out to kill her once more, the element of surprise. She could already feel his breath on her neck, see him, smell him…

And then he was gone. It was so sudden Maleficent didn’t know if it were a dream or not. Another of Kuzco’s bombs exploded, but this one was so near to them it vapourized Stefan in a cloud of smoke and impact, and he simply ceased to exist. He just stopped...being there. All of this happened in a matter of milliseconds, of course. The blast blew Maleficent backwards, blew everything she knew into a void that she couldn’t escape from. At once, she knew Stefan was dead. But she couldn’t fathom what direction she was facing, where the sky and the ground were, only that she was tumbling in a world of stone and blood. She curled into a ball and braced for impact.

************************

Aurora didn’t know at what point the blast went off, but she did know at what point the bone in her leg snapped with a vicious force. 

She also knew that immediately after the blast, the smoke was still clearing and Aurora found herself in a patch of cement, right leg at a terrifying angle, screaming bloody murder. No, screaming Maleficent. Over and over and over again. She’d never been so afraid in her entire life; the serene calm she had held before was shattered, and Aurora was suddenly faced with the very real possibility of dying before she could see Maleficent. Or the assassin dying in front of Aurora; both options were extremely unfavourable. 

The most recent blast had seemingly triggered a series of others, as Aurora had expected but didn’t want to believe. They were secondary, each blast bringing nothing more than another layer of anguish on her eardrums and body wounds, but she barely noticed them, instead simply scanning her eyes across the landscape to search for the assassin. She had tears streaming down her face, emotions in a whirl, all of her thoughts and feelings bearing down on her in an unforgivable, crushing weight that left her reeling. 

All at once, or maybe not at all, as though she were a spectral projection, a ghost of Aurora's own delusional deviations, Maleficent appeared out of the fog and smoke, a figure in black amongst the dawn. Aurora didn’t know if the screams were coming from her own mouth or one of the countless other wounded bodies lying scattered around the gully of the Arendelle Parkway, but she saw the assassin coming towards her and she mouthed her name. 

Maleficent was a goddess of death. She looked objectively terrible: her hair, pulled from its sharp ponytail, was askew and tangled with debris and blood; her face had been scratched at so many times it resembled a red camouflage pattern; her eyes were bloodshot, and she had an expression that combined anger, sadness, hope, and pure exhaustion, all in one cumulative mess. 

She was the most beautiful Aurora had ever seen her.

And the she was on her, touching her hands, cupping her face, and Aurora had never felt so alive, though she’d never been more close to the opposite. She squinted, and through her delirium, she saw Maleficent was crying. Crying? Aurora reached out a hand, softly, as explosives went off all around them, wracking the earth and sky with tempests that threatened to end them all, blip them out of existence. 

At once, Maleficent reached for Aurora’s hand, and at once, another blast nearly ripped them apart. The force of the impact threw Maleficent to the side of Aurora, and she scrambled closer while Aurora herself could do nothing but sob out of shock, love, and sorrow, amongst many other things. She heard a rumble and looked up; cruelly, the cliffs to the sides of them were slowly beginning to loose their boulders, crushing Humvees in a storm of fire and smoke. 

Maleficent shifted her body overtop of Aurora’s and her deep brown hair formed a curtain over Aurora’s own tear-stained, bloodstained face. 

She’s...She’s protecting me, Aurora thought, with a sickening realization. The assassin was using her own body as a shield against the incoming rocks. Two more blasts went off, but Aurora could only focus on the beautiful, melancholy face before her. 

“No, Maleficent,” she murmured. “Maleficent. You...you _can’t_.”

She weakly put her hand out to try and switch positions, to struggle, to shove the assassin away, so that she wouldn’t be hurt, but her leg jolted her with a sharp pain and Maleficent wouldn’t budge, bracing herself as pebbles began to rain down on them.

“Shush, Aurora,” the assassin spoke, softly, languidly. “I…”

“I love you,” Aurora broke into a full sob. “Please don’t do this. I love you, I love you, _I love you_. You can’t die, we have to be together, _please_ \--”

“Aurora. It’s okay. It’s going to be alright.”

She gulped, shaking, feeling dust all around them. Wishing Maleficent would protect herself instead. The sun had just started to rise, tinting the smoke all sorts of reds and oranges, brilliant and deadly. Aurora felt the weight of the assassin’s body on hers; she struggled to prop herself up as larger and increasingly larger rocks hailed down on the two of them, and she felt as though they were in some sort of limbo, just the two of them, some awful purgatory. 

She looked into the assassin’s eyes, still piercing green through the haze, locked on her own. Intense, more than they’d ever been.

This is the face of someone who’s not afraid to die.

_Kiss me, Mal._

The assassin did. Leaned close, her hair tickling Aurora’s face, pressing her lips softly on Aurora’s. Honey, sugar, ambrosia, Maleficent. She kissed her with a fervour, a feverish undertone in which Aurora recognized a hint of the assassin’s own fear, lust. Intermingling together, like their lips were a gateway to some deliriously heavenly ether. 

Aurora sobbed Maleficent’s name, leaned into the words on her tongue, wishing that the moment would never end and that they could die together like this, wrapped up like this, legs interwoven in a fit of passion, of protection. Guardian and protégée, and Aurora felt the stones hail down on them, slowly forming a circle around them and pelting the ground. God playing house. She was at once anguished and so, so in love, she felt as though her miniscule body could not contain the cosmos of her attraction, of her sadness. 

Maleficent kissed her, and Aurora had found herself. 

She felt wetness on Maleficent’s cheeks and knew that the assassin was sobbing, too. It was almost too much to bear. The last of Kuzco’s bombs went off in a sudden, aggressive motion, and the sheer side of the cliff broke off, falling at once like a curtain and sending a tsunami-like wave careening across the valley. Aurora knew they didn’t have much time left. Or any, for that matter. Her vision started spotting; Aurora felt herself coming onto the vestiges of blacking out but she didn’t know whether that was from pain, blood loss. Pure love. Rage, rage at the world, that they had given her Maleficent in this moment and then tried to take her away.

Aurora felt the inky blackness swallow her again, and she thrashed against the incoming tide, time, screaming no no no no no. Maleficent pulled her lips away softly, gently, nobly, and simply held Aurora in a shaky embrace; through her hair Aurora could see the sunrise coming faster and faster, and this moment of glorious light comingled with the darkness that was eating away at her from the inside. 

She took a deep breath, and let the dark wash over her, a blanket of the divine, a sheet of death and blood, the taste of Maleficent still on her tongue.

****************************

The dawn rose, and passed, and the rain clouds followed, eager supporters to the glory of the sun. Aurora woke with a start, a gasping for air that left her body racked by coughing and confusion. It was just at that point when a mist becomes a drizzle, and Aurora noticed the feeling of the cool droplets on her skin, washing the blood and tears from her face. It couldn’t wash away what she wanted it to, though. Herself, mainly. Her actions, sharpie on a whiteboard, graffiti on a chapel wall. 

Aurora actually felt like death itself: her nose had swelled to astounding proportions, and was all caked up with dirt and dried blood. Her hair was matted, and as Aurora ran her hand through it, catching on the tangles, she surmised that many chunks were actually missing--whether this was from the debris of the explosion hitting her or simply the fire itself, she wasn’t sure. Her leg, meanwhile, was so badly fractured Aurora suspected it was probably shattered in parts. She did not try to look at it; she knew the sight of it would make her vomit, so she simply ignored it and focused on the world around around her. Or tried to, at least.

 _Carnage_. It was almost calm; death surrounded Aurora, and yet she herself was a part of a tableau, a scene. A bloody, quiet landscape, plucked straight from a history battle, a masterpiece. She herself was sitting in a circle of stones, surrounding her like a cairn, a tomb. Around, the entire west side of the cliff face had been completely shorn off; boulders covered everything from Humvees, squashed like bugs, to Stefan’s minions, heads at odd angles, blood-covered screaming faces. Aurora counted at least fifteen she could see, none moving, ghosts or statues in the rain. 

And then, Maleficent. Aurora gasped and felt her heart ripping through her chest. _Daggers_. The assassin was lying on her back about ten yards away, hair splayed out around her, like an archangel of concrete. She wasn’t moving. 

Aurora went on her elbows and tried to drag herself across the ground, but her leg gave her a sharp stab of pain, and she screamed involuntarily, the sound echoing across the silent valley. _Fuck_. She gingerly used her hand to lift her leg onto the other leg, and continued dragging her body to reach the assassin, gritting her teeth and crying out every few seconds as her leg betrayed her again and again. 

It was a thousand years, or maybe only a few minutes; regardless, Aurora reached Maleficent, reached her hands out and touched the assassin’s pale, cool skin. She cried out, but found that no tears came; she’d already cried herself out but felt more anguish than she’d ever felt in her life. 

“Oh no...Mal, oh no, oh no, you can’t.” Aurora knelt close to Maleficent and shakily pressed her finger to the assassin’s throat. No pulse. She checked her wrist; no pulse again. _Shit, shit, shit_. “Maleficent!” Aurora propped herself up on her side and shook the assassin by her shoulders back and forth. But Maleficent remained limp. Aurora, panic mounting, finally leaned over, put her fists on Maleficent’s chest, and began to form the motions of CPR. She’d been trained by the assassin herself, but felt strangely incapable in the heat of the moment. 

_Push. Push. Push. Breathe. Thirty beats, two breaths. Rinse, repeat._ Aurora tried to resuscitate Maleficent for what seemed to be hours, but the assassin would not oblige her. Just stayed cold. Limp. Aurora didn’t want to say the word dead, or even think it, for fear that it may be true. 

The silence of the world converged down on her, crushing, weighty silence. Aurora and the world and her dead lover, alone. 

Aurora rocked Maleficent back and forth in her arms, weeping softly, for all the things that passed and all the things that were yet to come, and the rain continued to fall.


	28. The Grand Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visions are really, truly, seldom as they seem for Aurora and Maleficent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok...holy moly you guys, I'm crying as I write these notes. This has been such a good ride, I'm sad to be ending the series (3 years, wow!) but it has carried me through so many moments in life. The Malora fandom is nothing short of amazing, and I love you guys for all your support and suggestions. Maleficent, both as a sole character and the movie itself, helped me with discovering my own burgeoning orientation, and writing fanfiction is an outlet for me to express myself. 
> 
> I'm actually starting work on an original fantasy book, and will be borrowing ideas from this to inspire characters so you might be seeing more of me in the future :)
> 
> Anyways, needless to say, I had a lot of fun writing this. Xoxo times a million to all of you.

Driving along, hands gripped tightly on the wheel of his decades-old Jeep, Diaval hummed a song to take his mind off his worry. A slow, sad song; the kind of song his European ancestors might have sung in darker ages, times of knights and lords. It soothed him slightly, gave him an odd feeling of nostalgia, but did little to clear his head. Especially since he was approaching the turnoff to the Arendelle Parkway, and he knew that he was in no way prepared for whatever was to come. 

He had kept rapport with Maleficent since precisely 05:29 via radio communications. In code, of course. However, at a certain point Diaval noticed Maleficent’s signal was going in and out of connection; not long after that, he heard a faint “ _Shit_ ” over the walkie, and she went silent. _Must have turned it off_ , he figured. Or run away and left it lying there, speaker in the dirt to pick up nothing but the cold wind that had whipped the city outskirts. 

After a further half hour of him debating against himself on whether to leave Maleficent to her own capable self, or go after her in case something truly was wrong, Diaval went against his better judgement and hopped in the car. He realized, then, that there could be something really dire occurring, if he hadn't heard anything from Mal. It was unusual for her to be sloppy in her communications. If he did end up finding Mal alive, he figured he could probably pass her off as a civilian, an unsuspecting bystander caught in the unfortunate crossfire of gang warfare occurring outside of city limits, as he knew there were Stefan’s spies and corrupt police bound to be following the paper trail, just as he was. However, he didn’t know if he would even end up finding her alive. Or finding her, period. If she had failed in her attempt to kill Stefan, Diaval didn’t have high hopes for her. He wondered if she had sprinted off into the forest, Aurora tucked under one arm, so they could live like hermits. Forest fugitives. Or, maybe, she actually did kill Stefan, and he’d find her there; his bloody, dripping heart clenched in her fist, her eyes blazing with the green wildfire he’d only seen in the most escalated of situations. Maybe she’d abandoned the mission entirely, and for all he knew, Aurora was still in the back of Stefan’s car, speeding along the Arendelle Parkway. 

*******  
Diaval went further and further along the parkway, his heart thumping madly. As he went, he came across increasingly more alarming pieces of shrapnel: twisted bits of cars, rocks blown from the asphalt, glass shards. They drove past broken-down, crashed Humvees, too, some lying on their sides, like lions after a big meal. 

It was here that Diaval saw the bodies. Frantically scanning for any signs of recognition but he found none. People lying burned or maimed; Diaval knew that no doubt what he had seen earlier was the result of explosives. He could see no signs of life. 

He wandered away from the main area, trying to find some respite from the carnage he was witnessing. Sure, he’d seen dead bodies before, but not like this. Not like this. He imagined this was like what war survivors went through after, seeing their contemporaries lying massacred in fields. He didn’t blame them for understandably having such extreme PTSD. Everywhere he looked, the sight was disastrous. The entire west side of the cliff face had almost completely crumbled, leaving a path of destruction on its wake and burying vehicles as if they were toy cars in a sandbox. Fires were still smouldering at various points along what remained of thread, though the ever-constant drizzle prevented them from doing much spreading. Instead, they burned there, simply, menacingly, just waiting for someone to throw some kindling on. 

Although it was overcast, a sliver of sun still shone through the clouds, shining eerie light on the morning mess. Its colour was apocalyptic orange; seeing it, faced with the near-total silence of the dead world around him, Diaval felt utterly alone.

*************************  
Aurora was beside herself with grief. 

She had cradled Maleficent in her arms as the rain steadily poured down on them. Washing away blood and sweat, but not tears, not the impenetrable madness that wrapped itself in a vice grip around her heart, squeezing all the humanity out of her. She wiped strands of Maleficent’s blood-soaked hair, looking over her face: the sharp cheekbones, the pale skin, the angular jaw, the perennially cherry-red lips. Beautiful, striking, intimidating, even in death. Her eyebrows, once cocked, had relaxed, giving her softer features than Aurora had remembered. It was almost as if Maleficent was a child again; Aurora could examine the facial features and see a young girl in their place, almost a reflection of her own self. Albeit a bit harsher. She rocked her back and forth, holding Maleficent’s feather-light, limp body in her embrace, and spoke to her in a quiet, pleading voice.

“I know...I know that I haven’t made things easy for you,” she started off, her voice wobbling. “I’ve been a terrible nuisance, and worse, I’ve served as a reminder for you every day about your traumatic past. But I can promise you, I really promise you, I have so much love for you. I love you, Mal. You’ve taught me so much...so much about the world, about humanity. I promise I won’t let you go, not just yet.”

She took a deep breath, and her hands were shaking, though she found she wasn’t crying; it was almost as if she were too melancholic for tears. That she’d sobbed herself out. 

“I’ll be close to you, I promise. I’ll visit you every day. I’ll lay flowers down. Maleficent...you’ll go down in history. You will never be forgotten.”

Aurora had a vision of herself as older, a woman whose blond hair was in the throes of turning gray, walking down to a spot where the forest met the sea. All alone, isolated; scanning the soft, mossy spot underneath an oak tree where ashes were once scattered, until they were lost to the wind and became fuel for new underbrush to grow. _Only after destruction can there be creation._

She then planted a soft kiss on the assassin’s lips, one last time. A farewell. A signal, to the gods, _please take care of her, give her mercy_ , though by any means through what Maleficent had done she surely was not welcome in their celestial beds. 

She briefly thought of Meg, looking at Maleficent’s delicate features once again. They looked oddly similar--like if Meg had lived to be the older woman’s age. Aurora had always felt that Meg, only five, already carried the bulk of the family’s beauty genes. She herself had thin blond hair and pale, almost veinous skin as a child, always lanky and awkward, while Meg’s high cheekbones and luscious brown locks endeared everyone from the moment they met her. Maleficent looked like she could have been that way as a child, too, though her lips seldom smiled and her brown hair was quite a bit longer. They looked, perhaps, more similar than Aurora and Meg had, though she suspected as much. Her father was known to be a philanderer, but Aurora loved Meg just the same whether she was a sister or a half-sister. She truly did.

If the authorities ever found Aurora, they’d find her in the exact same situation as they had those few years ago, clutching her loved one with a dull, listless gaze, too filled with grief to do anything but stare. Both of them would be her fault, however indirectly, and both incidents would scar Aurora internally so much she doubted she’d make it though her life without suffering some sort of breakdown, and killing some poor unsuspecting soul. She understood how easy it was for Maleficent to get used to the act so quickly when killing became necessary to secure one’s own sense of being. 

Aurora closed her eyes, and laid the assassin down, softly, a stone statue washed clean by the rain. She thought could hear faint police sirens in the distance, but the sound barely registered in her ears. She laid down on her back, beside Maleficent, and interwove her fingers through the assassin’s own. Feeling the touch of her hands. She noticed the rain had suddenly, almost imperceptibly stopped, and felt the weight of her wet clothes; they had turned into frigid cages when the wind blew, chilling her spine. She closed her eyes, light spots dancing in the black recesses of her eyelids, and waited. For what, she didn’t know. For the authorities to come and find them. For her own self to die miserably. Bleeding out from the various wounds on her body, so that she would be encapsulated in a pool of blood to any hikers who found her. 

“Beastie.”

Aurora kept her eyes closed and furrowed her brow. Now was an odd time for her auditory hallucinations to set in--she hadn’t even been asleep. Was this some sort of traumatic vision, a voice to comfort her? What demon or malicious spirit had possessed such a voice akin to the assassin’s? She squeezed Maleficent's hand tighter, but to her immense surprise, there was a faint squeeze back.

“Hello, Beastie.”

Aurora jerked upright and scanned her eyes down. There, with a wistful, almost dreamy visage, was Maleficent. Her eyes were open, shining their green fire upon Aurora like they had never been put out; her lips were parted slightly, giving her a wondrous look. Aurora gasped, winded. She clenched her fists, _assuredly this is simply a hallucination, this cannot be--_

“ _Maleficent!”_

The assassin suddenly found herself unable to breathe as Aurora leaned over in a bone-crushing embrace, sobbing once more, though Maleficent had to admit she had not seen Aurora cry happy tears, not ever. Aurora finally let go, looked into the assassin’s eyes once more, and clasped her hands together, speechless.

“I...I...”

“Oh, Aurora,” Maleficent murmured, the fight gone out of her voice. It was softer now, gentler. “I thought you were lost to me.”

“What?” Aurora cried, incredulous. “Mal, you were the one--it was you who protected me with your back to the hail. You...I thought I had lost _you_ forever! You were dead....you were cold. I checked your pulse. I did CPR--”

“It was such an odd feeling, Aurora,” Maleficent pondered. “I don't remember what happened after I...ah...”

Aurora blushed. “You kissed me. Well, I mean, I asked you to.”

Maleficent looked down furtively. 

_Was she blushing as well?_ Aurora wondered. She decided not to press it in the heat of the moment. “Yes. I believe I entered into some sort of dark void...I felt conscious, almost. Like I still had life in me yet but my soul had gone blind. And then...I felt a pressure on me--lifted. I saw your face, like a... _God_. It was as though I was experiencing a rebirth of some sort right then and there.”

“But, Maleficent...you _died_. I saw you. I--”

The assassin shook her head. “I don’t know what happened. In these situations I normally find it very easy to calculate my surroundings, but this...this was another experience entirely.”

“You must have some...batshit...guardian angel,” Aurora sniffed, wiping her tears and allowing a hint of a smile to reach her face.

Maleficent looked at Aurora. “No, Aurora” she said, seriously. “My guardian angel was you.”

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Then, the assassin reached over and embraced Aurora back, taking care not to lean on her leg. Aurora closed her eyes and heard a revving engine getting closer and closer. They held each other tighter, as the quiet hum grew to an almost deafening roar, and when Aurora looked up again she noticed a large vehicle getting closer to them, circling them like a vulture. She was about to scream, but noticed Maleficent suddenly relaxing her body, and a man jumped out of the driver’s side door.

“Took you long enough, Diaval,” Maleficent said, and chuckled. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us.”

Aurora, though her energy was more drained than it had ever been before, cried out in happiness. “Diaval! Thank fuck you’re here!”

He ran towards them with an almost motherly expression of worry on his face. “Do I even want to know what’s happened here? Jesus. This place is a nightmare come true--are you safe? Any others--and about Stef--”

“He’s dead.” 

This came not from Maleficent’s mouth, but Aurora’s, and the assassin looked at her in surprise, and countless thoughts flooded her brain.

_How calm she looks in the face of a massacre. Of the death of her own father. Something cold, hardened about her, now. All she’s endured._

Maleficent realized something, then. “You’re not a child anymore, Aurora, are you?”

Aurora looked at her, with equal parts weariness and an old, deep-rooted sort of affection. She paused; it seemed to take her a while to regroup her thoughts. “I haven’t been one for a long time.”

“Your father, Aurora...I...”

“It’s all right, Mal. You didn’t kill him. He died of his own stupidity,” Aurora said, gently, and Maleficent found herself being oddly comforted by the girl’s words. “In my eyes, he may as well have been dead to me the moment I was born.”

“Uh, ahem,” Diaval interrupted. “Are you guys alright, though? We need to do full-body checks--”

“She’s broken her leg,” Maleficent murmured. “We need to leave, now, or the police will come soon. Is the safe house still alright?”

“Ah,” Diaval winced. “Well, I mean, Stefan has...uh...passed on, but his spies are still crawling about the neighbourhood. I’d go somewhere else.”

“Like where?” Aurora asked, dreamily. She was beginning to feel a sort of weighty tiredness settle over her. “Is the city even...still safe anymore?” She yawned.

“Stefan’s gone, but we can’t lose our diligence,” Maleficent said gently. “Don’t worry, though.

“I think I know a place.”

*****************  
Mulan looked disdainfully over the sleeping Aurora, furrowing her brow. 

Maleficent sat in the back, musing quietly over a mug of black coffee and wrapped in several layers of blankets. After they’d arrived at Mulan’s, Diaval had checked her back and front, and found, strangely, nothing wrong with her, apart from a few bruised ribs. How odd

“It’s unheard of,” he had said, perplexed. “By all accounts, you should be dead. Falling rocks? I’d think more bones would be broken, or at least the dust would have done some damage to your lungs. But this...this is weird. I would even call it a miracle.”

“Or just luck,” Maleficent offered. She was too tired to argue.

“No, Mal,” Dial smiled. “I think someone smiling down on you wants you to live. It’s a sign--that you and her are going to be okay.”

“I’m not invincible, Diaval.”

“No one is,” he had sighed. “You’re pretty damn close, though.”

Maleficent mulled over this exchange while Mulan paced back and forth, anxious at having forced, uninvited guests in her house. She had wanted to kick them out, but for some reason had reluctantly let them stay. Perhaps Diaval had made her take pity on us. Perhaps he simply offered her a bonus. Maleficent suspected the latter was at least partially, if not wholly, in play. Diaval had then told Maleficent that he’d have to set Aurora’s leg, a procedure she fully trusted him to do but still hated him for it--especially since she herself knew how painful trying to re-break and heal a fracture was. 

Diaval had let her into the room where he’d had Aurora stretched out on one of Mulan’s various chaises, gritting her teeth for the anticipation of murderous pain to come. He had actually wanted to give her opium, as per Mulan’s suggestion and the fact that it was readily available, but Aurora replied warily that she wasn’t about to touch the stuff; she asked instead for a bottle of scotch, which Mulan laughed and gave her a few swigs of, muttering things about _fancy tastes._

Maleficent would never forget the sound that the girl made when her leg was reset. It was such an inhuman, mournful screech that she felt as though her heart was being ripped from her chest and pounded. She wanted to leave the room but instead went close to the girl, taking her hand to be squeezed like a boa. Then, it was over, and Aurora slept, and it was calm once more. Maleficent’s ribs were still tender, but the greater pain she felt was that of a mental sort. Shame. Guilt. Exhaustion. Love. 

Mulan finally spoke, a dagger cutting through the thick, choking silence. “ _This_ is the poor creature you risked your life for?” 

Maleficent smiled wryly. “It’s funny, isn’t it, how love is.”

“She’s so... _untouched_ ,” Mulan sneered. “Uncorrupted by this city. It’s disconcerting to see someone pure.”

“Careful, Mulan,” Maleficent warned. “Before you make assumptions, Aurora’s been through more shit than most people in this godforsaken city can imagine.”

“You really do love her, don’t you?”

Maleficent exhaled. “We’re in a bit of a predicament, I’d say. She’s a child.”

“But you love her.”

“She’s a child,” Maleficent argued. “I’m not going to talk about it with her.”

Mulan laughed. “You know, for a literal assassin, you have a really skewed sense of morality right about now.”

“I suppose so.”

“Alright, then, you feel affection for her,” Mulan conceded.

“Yes.” Maleficent looked over at Aurora’s angelic sleeping visage. _Mulan was right, she was pure._

“Well, then, that’s that,” Mulan smirked. “I suppose I’ll be heading out, now. I have to convince Li Shang not to kill you. You can get settled in for the night--maybe two nights if I’m feeling generous. Just don’t break anything.” 

Maleficent nodded as Mulan slipped out the door, leaving them in silence once again. 

***********************

Philip stood up quickly when Diaval walked in, an expression of concern on his face. They shared a quick embrace before he offered Diaval a seat and sat back down. 

“This isn’t good, Diaval,” Philip swallowed. “I mean...my boss is dead. That’s so weird to say--dead. He was an asshole, I mean, we weren’t even friends, but...he was still a human. A human life was still taken.”

“What does the media know?”

“Not much, although they’ll know soon enough. The news trucks are on their way, I’m told. Don't know how those little buggers even found out he was missing. Well, although ever since the...ah...Aurora kidnapping thing, they’ve had a close eye on him, so I suppose it’s not too inconceivable. Though it’s still annoying, I must say.”

Diaval shook his head. “What are you going to tell them, when they ask? Surely you can’t keep it a secret for that long.”

“We’re working on an alibi. Car crash or something. They seem to love drug overdoses, maybe we’ll do that. Not anything too suspicious.”

“And you?” Diaval pressed. 

“Well,” Philip started, and then paused. “Fuck. I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“Like...Jesus. All these years, I’ve lived in Stefan’s shadow, being groomed by him to take over the company one day. But I didn’t expect for it to be this soon--I’m only twenty four, for god’s sake. I’m not even old enough to be an experienced intern. And,” he added, grimacing. “Aurora and I were supposed to do it together. Not that it would have brought either of us joy.”

“So...you’re going to be the new CEO of Ironworks Industries?”

“Yes! No--I mean, well, maybe. I just...don’t know how to process it. I feel like I don’t have a spine.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m not cruel enough to fill his shoes.”

“You don’t have to be,” Diaval said gently. “You could turn it into something else entirely, reform the system.”

“Reform,” Philip mused. “Yes. I like that.”

“You’re not Stefan. You don’t have to pretend to be like him in order to succeed.”

“I know, I know. I’ll give more tax breaks, extra holidays for workers, et cetera, et cetera. But...it’s going to be a great big fucking challenge, that much I can tell you.”

Diaval smiled. “At least you have someone along the way to help you.”

***********************  
Aurora awoke with a start to the sound of soft breathing in the room. Momentarily, she forgot where she was: situated in a dark room with only a faint glow from the street out the window, in a double bed. It was different from both the modern high-rise she had lived in before the assassination attempt occurred, as well as the sprawling mansion grounds she had been accustomed to for the better part of a year. No, this place was eerie--the light seemed to come from above her, as though she was in an underground antechamber. 

_Oh, wait_. She was. Vague, painful snippets of memories flashed vividly in Aurora’s mind, and she realized she was in one of Fa Mulan’s various rooms. It must have been nighttime or early morning, but there was no clock and for all she knew, the sun could have been eclipsed entirely, given how dark it was.

A presence made itself known to her, and she glanced over. Maleficent was right beside her, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. 

She didn’t entirely know what to make of it. She had never been this close to the assassin--not counting their time together in the fury and fervour of her father’s firestorm a day ago. Certainly not as consciously as they both seemed now.

Maleficent flicked her eyes over, noticing Aurora stirring, and sat up abruptly, swinging her legs over the bed and making to leave. Not meeting Aurora’s eyes. 

“No, wait,” Aurora cried weakly, then composed her voice slightly, attempting to sound affirmative. “ _Stay_. Please.”

Maleficent looked over at her, then slowly, languidly, slid back into bed with Aurora. “I was just keeping watch beside you. Guarding you. I don’t...mean you harm.”

“Have you slept?”

The assassin shook her head. “Not much.”

“How long have I been out for? What time is it, even?”

“It’s about four thirty. So, you've been out for eighteen hours or so, I’d guess?” She grimaced. “You did wake up many times throughout the day. Though I doubt you’d remember.”

“Jesus.” Aurora exhaled. “Are you all right, though?”

“Miraculously,” Maleficent smirked. “Bruised ribs were all Diaval could find. If I drop dead anytime soon, though, you can blame him.” 

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

They paused for a moment. Comfortable in the warm silence each other provided, punctured only by the rhythmic up and down of each other’s breathing. Aurora’s leg still pained her terribly, and although she presumed they had pumped her with morphine--she felt a happy, calm sort of serenity--it wasn’t enough to entirely stop the immense throbbing her lower half caused her. Oddly enough, she decided not to complain. _How very un-Aurora of me_ , she thought. 

She then tried to shift closer to Maleficent, resting the side of her cheek on the assassin’s arm, but she stiffened and attempted to pull away. 

“Aurora,” she started, a wincing tone in her voice. “Aurora, I can’t.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?”

The assassin sighed heavily. Sorrow. “Aurora, you...you don’t _want_ to be with me. You like the idea of it, but...you don't actually want _me_.”

“That’s dumb,” Aurora said playfully. “Of course I want to be with you--”

“No, you don’t understand,” Maleficent argued woefully. “You can’t. I’m not the kind of person people fall in love with. Christ, I mean, look at me. I _kill people_ , Aurora. I’m the kind of monster that hides under your bed, not sleeps in it with you.” She laughed, without much humour. “I can’t guarantee you’ll ever be safe when you’re with me, and that....that I can’t bear. It’s too much.”

Aurora felt a shaking motion, and when she looked up, she saw tears streaming down Maleficent’s face. She was speechless; never, ever in her time with Maleficent had she ever seen the assassin cry. It was mesmerizing, yet so sad, so pitiful, that a chunk of Aurora’s heart broke. 

“No, stop,” Aurora argued. “Listen to me. I don’t care about that--I don’t care about any of that.”

“You and I both know it won’t work out.”

Aurora leaned over further onto Maleficent in protest, though her leg threatened to reduce her to painful screaming. “ _I don’t care_. Maleficent, you don’t have to pretend you’re someone you’re not. I know you kill people. You tried to kill me. And I tried to kill you. Guess what? People kill each other. You may be more moral than anyone else, regardless of your job. You only kill crooks. Criminals. I daresay that’s more than anyone else can say in this godforsaken city.”

The assassin said nothing. Aurora continued, a fire lit in her heart, unquenchable, unstoppable.

"I don’t care if it’s for one more day, or a week, or a year, or a lifetime, Mal. _I want to be with you_. I want to make it last for as long as it can. I would rather relive one short burst of love a thousand times over than leave you now and have never loved you at all. You think my heart will be intact with you gone, but it’s not true. It’s the opposite. I told you--not a day will go by when I don’t think of you. Your face, your lips. Your voice.”

The assassin paused, as if she were about to spew a wealth of knowledge, of boundless words. “Aurora,” she began, almost in a whisper, it was so soft.

_“I don’t want to lose you.”_

She allowed Aurora a small slice of her shoulder, nudging it towards her gingerly, on which Aurora rested it, feeling adoration swell up in her.

“I don’t want to lose you either. I almost did,” she added, “but you’re here. I’m here, and we’re both alive, and I think that’s all that matters for now.”

To this, the assassin laughed, but softly, tenderly. “Yes. Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“So...it’s a deal?”

“You’re not even eighteen, Aurora.”

“Then I’ll wait. My birthday’s in two months. I’m not worried.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m serious,” she smiled. “I’m into you.”

“I’m into you as well, beastie,” the assassin murmured. 

Maleficent shifted again so that her arm was nestled in with Aurora’s cheek, and Aurora felt her heart thump loudly in her chest. _God_. She wanted this, wanted it never to be over, for them to exist in that small, cozy room together, in pain and in lust and in love and all those other messy things. She knew, deep down, that somehow there was going to be a way in which she would not be able to be with the assassin forever. She doubted Maleficent was the kind of person who liked to settle for simple relationships, let alone on a long-term basis. She doubted that she’d ever grow old with Maleficent, yet she cherished the thought, imagined it vividly. Now would do, at least for a little while. 

And there she lay, her leg still pulsing with pain time and time again, wrapped up in the arms of someone who had, at one time, wanted to slice her throat. Someone who made her allegiances change; someone who turned everything she knew about the world and was used to upside down. Who introduced her to a new land, one that was sinister and corrupt but also full of love, adventure, and loyalty. It was a funny thought; Aurora wanted to laugh but felt a lump welling up in her throat instead, and decided not to say anything out loud. To ruin the moment. She knew there were so many things that were better communicated through actions, not words, not sayings. She knew this world had enough empty promises already.

And they were together, entwined in an elegance, a winding of heartstrings, feeling the heat of breath and the immense calmness of just _being_. And when the sun finally rose, they watched it together, silently. Pinks and oranges and reds and yellows, a veritable artist’s palette, blazing skies. Coldness finally turning into warmth. With it, the reminder of a tale, a story finally finished, and yet to Aurora and her assassin, it signalled that it was just the beginning.


End file.
